Silent Hill: The Truth That Lies
by Baby.Capri.1990
Summary: For months, she wanted to know the truth about her brother’s sudden disappearance. But to find the truth, she seeks to unravel the lies she's created. - COMPLETE -
1. Prologue: Silent Hill

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Silent Hill. Silent Hill © belongs to, and will forever belong to, Konami. This is non-profit only. I only own the characters in this story.

**Author's Notes: **Special thanks to my best friend in the whole wide world, **Neo**, for helping me create, making me understand, and giving me the knowledge to get this story up and running. Thanks!

**Rating: **M for violence, sexual themes, language

**Summary: **For months, she wanted to know the truth about her brother's sudden disappearance. But to find the truth, she seeks to unravel the lies she's created.

**BEFORE READING: Every chapter title (including the prologue) is the name of a Silent Hill song. So if you want to get into the real 'mood', then I suggest listening to the song whilst reading.**

The Truth That Lies

Prologue: Silent Hill

The wipers of Kyla Donovan's car were going back and forth rapidly – the beating and whining as they wisped over the water fogged glass being the only noise in the car besides the quiet whisper of her own breath.

She'd long since grown bored with the radio, a mish-mash of folk stations and oldies tunes seemingly all there was to offer out here, and turned it off.

Taking her green eyes off the road momentarily, she looked down at her cell phone – hoping to find a text message from one of her friends... or even her damned boss calling to let her know she's fired for not leaving notice before her sudden vacation… just _something_ to make up for the utter nothingness she was stuck with to look at thanks to this weather, and a rolling fog that had crept in long before it began to rain.

The wheel jerked in her hands as the rain soaked tarmac turned too slick under her car's old tires for a moment until she could feather the brakes, hands holding a little tighter as she returned her wondering attention to the road.

It was dangerous weather to be distracted in.

She cursed under her breath in annoyance, deciding that spinning out on a deserted road, in the middle of nowhere, in weather her headlights could barely cut through even on full beam, was not a great life choice.

A groggy pounding in her head, and a scratchy feeling behind her eyes as if someone had jammed cotton wool behind them, convinced her that maybe she should take a break before she did something really stupid and ended up part of one of the towering pines that lined the featureless asphalt lake that was the road.

Pressing her right foot down on the brake, and trying not to grit her teeth as the old rust bucket she was driving wailed in protest, felt herself slowing down.

When the car finally came to a complete stop, she sat back, setting the car in neutral and flicking off the engine with a lazy turn of the key.

Kyla let her head loll back listlessly, rubbing at her eyes and growling in that semi-frustrated way a person does when they're tired but know they can't sleep just yet.

Sighing, she opened one eye and stared at the patterns made by the rain on her windshield; the outside world a complete blur without the wipers to battle the ever-present water that sought to hide the world from her.

All she could make out were varying shades of gray, one for the land, one for the sky, and one for the fog in between them.

It felt as though she was on an endless road to nowhere.

Glancing at her phone where it rested on her passenger seat, her sole companion on this journey, she read the time.

_10:43 pm… _She was surprised to realize she'd been driving for over eight hours, though it would explain why her stomach had been growling for the past few miles, and a quick look showed that she wasn't the only one running on empty; she was almost out of gas.

_I knew I should have stopped at the gas station an hour ago..._

She squinted, hoping against hope that there would be some signs of life out there somewhere, a service station, anything. For a moment, there was nothing. Then, almost as if the fog and rain had peeled back just enough for her to see it, large board seemed to materialize; dangling on rotting wooden posts at the side of the road.

"The hell...?"

She started her car and drove closer, hoping to see what it said.

As she arrived at the green sign, she read it aloud and felt her heart start beating irregularly.

"Welcome To Silent Hill," the sign said, the white words painted over an aging wooden green sign.

_It's about damn time..._

She reached for the brochure on Silent Hill she printed from the library computers back home, holding it up in front of her, the sunny scene in the photo on the cover- taken presumably from more or less where she now sat- was a lot different than the miserable, wet landscape that currently surrounded her mobile shelter.

"A_ nice, cozy town in Toluca County, Virginia. Come here for all your vacation needs._"

"In this fog?" Kyla questioned skeptically, once more contrasting the picture with the reality, "yeah, right..."

Rolling her eyes, she tossed the paper aside and drove towards the gloomy town.

However, being afraid of having another 'almost accident' like last time, she drove slowly, especially as the land sloped away from the road to her right quite suddenly the closer she got to town, just the tips of the tallest trees down below making it above the fog.

She sighed with relief when the first building in the town finally came into view. A squat, brick construct, it was presumably once bright red, though age had darkened the once vibrant brick a muddy brown color. She squinted to make out the name.

"Silent Hill Historical... Society?"

Well it was good to know she was in the right place at least, though old books and stuffy historians couldn't help her much with her gas problem, or find her lodgings, so she drove on.

Kyla turned a corner and pulled into the gas station – Texxon Gas, one of the most famous gas chains in America. Pulling up next to one of the pumps, Kyla stuffed her cell phone into her pocket and clambered out of the car quickly, her jacket over her head in a feeble attempt to block out the rain.

With many an unpleasant speculation of the parentage, intelligence and sexual orientation of her car she was able to convince it's stubborn petrol cap to yield and impatiently counted down the minutes until the tank was full.

"Shit, shit, shit! Come on! This is cold!" she hissed, abandoning the car once it was done, and the pump was returned and fleeing for the shelter of the station proper.

The door opened with a loud and grating creak rather than the pleasant jingle of a bell, but she was more concerned with being out of the rain than having her illusions of rustic charm despoiled.

Shaking off her drenched jacket, the brunette made her way to the counter, idly scanning the oddly sparse shelves for a quick snack for her rebellious stomach before it decided to break free and go in search of its own lunch.

Slowly she came to a stop.

Strewn over the counter was a torn paper bag, its many contents lying around it like the discarded organs of a paper man.

"This place is a mess..."

Sighing, she called; "hello?" hoping the owner, or at least an employee was lurking about somewhere, maybe in the back room behind the counter. Getting no answer no answer, Kyla began to feel a little irritable.

Who left their business open when they weren't there?

"Hel-lo?" She sang, a sense of annoyance in her soprano voice.

"This is too odd..." walking around the counter to the employee door, she was prepared to go in there and demand service when something chill cut through her. She stiffened, the hairs on the back of her neck standing on end like she'd walked through a static curtain as she reach out to open the simple push door.

Backing away from the door, her foot caught something hard, sending it clattering against the base of the counter.

"What the hell...?" she stooped to look at the suspect: a Zippo lighter.

"..."

She grabbed the lighter and flipped it open, still sitting on the floor. She heard the flint scrape against the metal, a tiny sparkle blazing into an orange-yellow flame that flickered fitfully.

An eagle was engraved on both sides of the copper lighter and turning the lighter to the side revealed a simple white emboss that read 'One & Only' in cursive letters.

Biting her lip as she stood, she stuffed the lighter into her pocket.

Reaching into her purse she grabbed the first few bills that looked large enough, hoping they would pay for the gas... and replace the lighter, it didn't look like gas station fare.

Kyla walked out of the gas station briskly and hurried to her car, looking behind her every once in a while as if expecting the absent staff to suddenly materialize and demand the lighter back.

Laying her head back against the headrest when she was back in her car, Kyla closed her eyes for a few seconds before starting the engine. It took a few tries to start the old rust bucket, which seemed to make her feel oddly panicked for reasons she couldn't quiet place, but turned over eventually.

"I hate this hunk a' junk..." the green eyed brunette mumbled, "Chris… you suck."

She drove out of the gas station and into the empty road. Visibility was still near zero, but Kyla had no trouble focusing on the road this time. It beat having to relive the crawling sense of dread that had lingered on with her.

Forced to a crawl here on the public streets she peered through the rain, occasionally finding her eyes drawn to her mirror, half expecting to find someone waiting for her to notice them in the backseat.

She had never seen so much rain in her life – not even back home in Chicago.

Up ahead a tacky neon sign proclaimed that 'Jack's Inn' was close by. She thanked the heavens and pulled into the parking lot.

"Someone better be here…"

Struggling from her seat, she parked the car next to the Inn Office, disheartened to see that another place seemed to have forgotten to pay its electric bill, the double story structure as dark and silent as the gas station, except for one small light shining like a beacon from the reception office.

She sighed in relief as she saw a silhouette of a man in the small light – most likely a candle he had lit up to bolster the failing illuminations of the simple lights overhead.

Setting the car in park and gathering her keys as she braced herself for the onslaught of icy water, a quick dash took her to the safety of the reception doorway.

As she reached the doorway, her hand was already stretched out, wanting inside. A rush of warm air greeted her from the cramped confines, though a little less body odor coming with it would have been appreciated. Wringing her hair like an old dishcloth, she smiled apologetically at the man sitting behind the pitted and scratched counter as she made a small puddle on his murky green carpet.

"I'm really sorry about that… It's just that it's really wet and-" Kyla stopped as she saw the man raise his hand, his head moving side to side as he read from a smallish book.

"What's up with this town?", she asked when he seemed to have finished his page, "Why aren't the lights on anywhere?"

The man didn't answer her – just continued staring at the yellowed pages. Either it was a truly gripping read, or he was a crappy manager, ignoring a potential customer in a dead place like this.

Gritting her teeth, she glanced around the small reception. The shelves were filled with old books and numbers – obviously for the rooms, as the keys dangled from the hooks beneath them.

"Can I at least get a room…?" She inquired, hoping the man would at least answer for that. All he did was nod wordlessly and point to the keys. "Which room-"

"Whichever, doesn't matter… Not like you'll be here long," The gray haired man answered for her. Her brows rose in annoyance.

"Thanks" Kyla ground out mock sweetly, placing a couple of twenties on the desk whilst walking over to the room keys.

When she didn't get an answer, the brunette turned back around.

"Can you at tell me if anyone else came through recently from out of town?"

He didn't say a word.

Sighing, she cleared her throat loudly so that he would look at her.

"Thanks for the room…"

The owner looked up at her for the first time. His emotionless gray eyes and face took her back to the time when Christopher told her that their parents were…

"Don't mention it. As I said, you won't be here long anyway."

"... Right," Kyla replied with a shaky smile the owner didn't bother to look up for, once more absorbed in whatever he was reading. Leaning back as she made her way toward the door and the rain that lay beyond it, she caught sight of the title.

In Mens Rea Veritas 

Shivering against the lashing rain and wind, the newly drenched brunette ran for the stairs, stopping at her car along the way to retrieve her bags. Flinging the bag over her wet shoulder, she headed to the room.

Shoving the key into the lock and turning it, a slight creaking noise came as the door was pushed open, revealing a small bedroom suite with a door that lead to the bathroom.

The room was dark, of course, but to Kyla's relief, as her eyes adjusted to the gloom inside, there were candles sprawled all over the desk across the room. She sighed, picking her way across the room, wary for things on the floor, low furniture and other items her night vision wouldn't guarantee she would see. Eventually she hit the desk and after a few false tries, was able to light one of the candles, that one soon spreading it's light to a few of the others which she placed around the room.

Taking a candle in her small hand, Kyla walked over to the window, closing the cheap, green curtains next to the already made bed. She set the candle on the nightstand and sat down, fumbling a corner of the pillow.

She shook her white jacket off, hoping the room would be pleasantly warm.

She was wrong.

She placed her jacket on the desks chair, hoping to not have to get up from the uncomfortable bed; however, the bed was better than her car. She smiled as she saw the jacket land on the chair.

_Right on target…_

She cleared her throat as she swung her legs on the bed, laying her head on the pillow.

For a moment there was only the sound of the rain outside, and her mind began to wander. Inevitably it came back to her reason for being here.

"Chris… where are you?"

Knowing she wouldn't get an answer, she put her hands underneath her head. Closing her eyes, she breathed slowly as she listened to the rain beat against the window – the repeated patter like the comforting murmurs of a gentle guardian.

But even in time even the rain made her think about Chris, the reason she was in this sleepy, quiet little town. Her brother had been missing for almost half a year now. The police had questioned her of course, a kind of angry suspicion lingering under their polite words that had left her glad to be out of the station at the end of it all. However, it had left her none the wiser as to where he could have gone, just feeling guilty for her treatment.

She looked over at the candle nearest the bed, the solitary flicker of the naked flame seeming sinister, as if it was reaching out for something to consume. She shrugged the feeling off, knowing it was probably just the incident at the gas station, leaving her uneasy still.

It was so quiet here– almost too quiet…

And it scared her…


	2. White Noiz

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Silent Hill. Silent Hill © belongs to, and will forever belong to, Konami. This is non-profit only. I only own the characters in this story.

**Author's Notes: **Special thanks to my best friend in the whole wide world, **Neo**, for helping me create, making me understand, and giving me the knowledge to get this story up and running. Love you, Bro!

**Rating: **M for violence, sexual themes, language

**Summary: **For months, she wanted to know the truth about her brother's sudden disappearance. But to find the truth, she seeks to unravel the lies she's created.

**BEFORE READING: Every chapter title (including the prologue) is the name of a Silent Hill song. So if you want to get into the real 'mood', then I suggest listening to the song whilst reading.**

The Truth That Lies

Chapter One: White Noiz

Kyla opened her eyes, the many shades of gray crashing through the window. She couldn't lift her head – it was as if someone was forcefully holding it down. She moved her eyes to the left, seeing the candle still somehow burning, but on the edge of the nightstand.

That's not right… it's light out that should have burned down already… 

The brunette attempted to move – but once again, to no avail.

The single flame seemed to leap and dance, excited by her helplessness, growing as if feeding off of it.

_Burning…something is burning!_ An arid stench assaulted her nose, seeming to come from somewhere around her, somewhere she couldn't see with her head frozen in place like this.

_It's burning! I… I have to get up, or I'll burn too!_

Smoke, she could smell smoke now, thick black smoke, the kind that stole your breath and your strength and robbed your will as it stole your life.

With a panicked cry the invisible lock on her muscles seemed to vanish and her hand came up, flying into the candle – knocking it into the paper filled garbage can.

Igniting the contents, the single flame found brethren and soared higher, roaring angrily in the confined space as it spit smoke and ash at her when she proved out of reach.

"Hoo-ooly shit!"

Running to the sink and grabbing a dirty cup, Kyla filled it up quickly, imagining she could feel the fires already spreading across the room for her with smoldering fingers.

She turned around and headed to the fiery blaze – but stopped in her tracks. Her mouth dropped and the cup fell from her delicate hands, shattering into pieces on the wooden floor.

The candle was still burning – all alone on the cherry colored nightstand. The garbage can was on the other side of the room and it was empty.

Walking over to the bed, she let suddenly weakened legs collapse as she sat on the edge.

"I'm… What… what was that?"

She placed her face in her hands. Stress, that's all it was, stress and sleeping in an unfamiliar place. For a moment she almost wished for her brother to be there. He'd always comforted her as a child when she'd scared herself.

A tapping, the sounds of fingers on glass roused her from her memories with a jerk.

"What?"

Her head shot over to the window, only to see a black figure run by.

"Hey!"

She pushed herself to the window, putting her face as close to the window as possible without touching it. It had stopped raining – only the fog still lingering on. She hadn't got a close look at the shadow as it had fled but she could see its shape – not very clearly, however.

The figure looked as though they were wearing a bulky coat, a fur hooded parka perhaps? That made sense in this weather, and yet somehow the idea seemed…off.

She grabbed her phone to call the police but she got no reception.

"Damn it!"

Forgetting about her coat, she managed to slip on her boots without having to untie them. Swinging the door wide, she stepped out into the biting cold morning, the chill stinging her cheeks, turning them pink in moments and she shivered.

At first it seemed as if her mystery visitor had vanished, but then she saw it, the shadow crouched low by her car.

"Hey! What the hell are you doing?!" she screamed as, with a hiss of air, the car listed to one side its tire slashed and the shadow took off into the fog.

"Son of a bitch!" Kyla yelled as she moved on instinct, chasing the vandal for all she was worth.

So focused was she, that she never noticed the subtle changes around her, the way the motels fading paint job had peeled away exposing raw brick like a gaping wound, or the smashed glass of the receptions door, the room beyond desolate and blackened.

Charred beyond recognition.

Now Kyla had never been a track star by any means, in fact she'd always been distinctly average, but with righteous anger lending her feet wings, she was able to keep up with the shadowy delinquent for almost a block and a half before admitting defeat and collapsing on a nearby bench as the mysterious person vanished from sight entirely.

"Ass…hole…." she wheezed, her side spasming in pins and needles as her lungs slurped down each breath greedily. She tried to remember the last time she ran so fast, but no memory was forthcoming and the cold chill of the foggy air soon began to seep its way beneath her clothes.

She was tired and her body ached from all the excitement the past few minutes had brought.

_This day is _not_ going well… First, I almost burn the Inn to the ground… Then, I get my tire slashed… and now, I almost die from lack of oxygen. What next?_

Sighing, Kyla eased herself off the bench, wincing as her side gave one final twinge before settling into kind of sulky numbness and ambled slowly back in the direction she'd come from.

As if waiting for the perfect moment to complete her humiliation, her stomach gave a loud and echoing rumble.

Having not eaten anything for almost twenty-four hours, she thought she might as well satisfy her desire for subsidence. Perhaps tearing into a big, juicy burger would settle the nerves of a predator denied her prey, or at least stop her head spinning after too much exercise and too little fuel for such energetic undertakings.

Mentally kicking herself for not grabbing her jacket, her money was kept in a small purse in the pocket after all; she headed back to the Inn. Deciding as she trembled, foggy tendrils raising goose-pimples on her fair flesh, that on second thought room service would be nice if she could get it, rather than trekking around in near blindness hoping to stumble upon a diner.

_And I have to call the police…_

As she walked, something began to bother her. When she'd been chasing the guy who'd vandalized her car and been doing god only knew what at her window, she hadn't really paid much attention to anything else. However, now that she was free of such distractions, she couldn't help but notice something wrong.

The entire town was silent.

No dogs barking, no cars, no early morning commuters grumbling as they huddled at bus stops, no businesses bustling about their trades, not even a bird. Just complete, utter and unbroken silence.

Perhaps Silent Hill was more than a name she thought, attempting to infuse some humor into the icy bile welling in her throat, but somehow, it didn't make it better.

She'd felt this before… back at the gas station the previous night… a formless dread tiptoeing somewhere behind her, always at the corners of her vision, but never there when she looked. Before it had just come from that one room, but now…

"It's…just early, that's all," she had no idea why she was speaking out loud, but her point was valid enough. In this thick fog, and without her phone; which remained back at her room, she had no way of telling anything about the time of day other than that it was daylight.

The brunette almost wilted with relief when the motel finally pierced the fog ahead, jogging the last few yards and spinning on her heal, half hoping, half not, to catch the source of her creeping terror, but there was nothing there, and the feeling itself seemed to already be evaporating.

She saw it.

The place she stayed in last night was nearly gone – demolished, only ash and settling smoke around a smoldering frame. Her thoughts went to before – minutes before she left the Inn to chase the man who killed her car's tire.

Images flashed in her mind quickly: the reception area of the Inn. It was burned. 'Charred beyond recognition'. The rest of the building was fine – not harmed. Until now.

Shivering in fear, she slowly tiptoed over to her car, looking behind her every other step just incase the vandal who slashed her tired decided to come up and slash _her_. A quick examination confirmed what her ears had heard earlier, a large gash had been left just under the tire's fading treads and she had no spares.

Someone didn't want her leaving.

"This sucks."

She stood up, eyes turning skyward as if there might be some explanation for all this sudden strangeness in the lingering smoke, already becoming one with the heavy mists and formless gray sky.

It was all too surreal. She had just lost every possession she had brought her save the clothes on her back, and her only means of transport too, all in the space of a dream addled half an hour.  
Running her hands through her long brown hair, she waited for the other shoe to drop as they say, for the reality of her abrupt helplessness to kick in, but it seemed distant.

_How does an entire building burn down in a few minutes_, part of her seemed to whisper, while the rest worried and fretted over finding food and shelter with no money.

Looking back down at the pavement in exhaustion, the smell of gasoline overtook her senses. It was strong – as if it was right next to her nose… She saw a gas canister lying on its side next to her.

It had obviously been used to set the fire, and then abandoned. There was no way the same guy she'd chased could have done it, there was no canister when she left.

"A gang?" she wondered aloud. It was possible; she'd once seen a place torched as an initiation stunt by a local gang back home.

Kicking the container in a sudden fit of anger, she was surprised when it tinkled musically as it bounced across the concrete, something rattling about inside.

Stooping over the now dented plastic container, she upended it curiously, taking a few moments to make sense of the fuel soaked brass key that dropped out of the dislodged cap at her feet.

Old fashioned and age worn, there were a pair of initials 'WS' and the numbers '204' engraved at the top of the key, nothing more.

"…" Kyla didn't quite know what to do, and as she stared at the impassive brass object, it didn't seem to be offering any suggestions. Surely only a truly inept criminal left the key to his home at the crime scene…

However, if it was his, what then? Was she supposed to go after him like one of the heroines on Tv?

Playing detective won't make me any less screwed here, she thought, biting her lip, fingering the key uncertainly, the stench of gasoline making her empty stomach roll and her head spin once more. 

Pocketing the key on impulse she stood, still feeling more than a little sick as she looked upon the wreckage of the inn and her now useless car.

Still reality failed to come crashing in, and all she felt was hollow.

Sighing deeply, she listened to the deaf toned town.

"Sounds so lonely… so dead."

Reaching out, she let a flake of falling ash land on her hand, watching as the still warm remnant crumbled to dust, staining a small patch of pale skin black.

"Nothing but ash… so why is nobody here?" she mused, swaying a little and staggering away from the fumes and the smoke and back out into the fog…


	3. Alone In The Town

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Silent Hill. Silent Hill © belongs to, and will forever belong to, Konami. This is non-profit only. I only own the characters in this story.

**Author's Notes: **Special thanks to my best friend in the whole wide world, **Neo**, for helping me create, making me understand, and giving me the knowledge to get this story up and running. Thanks! ^.^

**Rating: **M for violence, sexual themes, language

**Summary:** For months, she wanted to know the truth about her brother's sudden disappearance. But to find the truths, she seeks she must unravel the lies she's created.

**BEFORE READING: Every chapter title (including the prologue) is the name of a Silent Hill song. So if you want to get into the real 'mood', then I suggest listening to the song whilst reading.**

**I'm bringing in a few new characters to the story – minor characters, but they're vital to the story. Hope you enjoy them.**

The Truth That Lies

_Chapter Two: Alone in the Town_

Tap Tap.

The sound of her boots on cold, unyielding pavement seemed to boom unnaturally in the empty artificial canyons of the town's streets. Either side of her, houses and shops stared back with hollow glass eyes, something about their vacancy sinister, bordering on malicious. It wasn't so much as if everything were simply closed she realized slowly coming to a halt and stepping closer to the road, feet crunching on frostbitten grass that lined the edges of the pathways.

It was as if everyone had been going about their business and then suddenly stopped and left. There was no sign of panic or rushing, just things left behind. Shops without their shutters down even though no one was inside them, houses with drawn curtains but no families inside the deserted rooms therein.

Silent Hill sure lives up to its name…

Ahead the road was bisected by another, the sign that marked the new junction.

Simply reading: Katz Street.

"Hm…"

Tremors running across numbing flesh as dropping temperatures tightened their hold on her exposed skin, the near-frostbitten woman hugged herself as she continued on, the key in her pocket a sliver of ice against her hip. Tucking her chin in against the cold, she wished she had something warmer to wear, but then again, she hadn't planned on having her jacket reduced to ash...

Kyla eyes came back up as something impossibly large loomed out of the fog ahead, its shadow turning the immediate area into night.

Towering up into the gray above, the crude steel barrier was welded from sheets of corrugated metal slapped haphazardly together. This was something that had gone up with more speed than skill.

Once again… another -

- Dead end…

Though this one was a bit more literal than those that had interfered with her search for Chris so far.

It was also far stranger, she found herself thinking as she back out of the barrier's shadow. Why would someone erect something like this? And why would whatever passed for the local authorities allow such an eyesore in what was supposed to be a resort town?

"What's wrong with this town…?" She found herself repeating in muttered whispers and she had yet to get an answer.

Once again Kyla found herself noticing brittle silence. It was… strange, but she hadn't yet felt the return of that creeping sensation she'd felt outside the inn and in the gas station the night prior. That feeling as is the very fog itself has eyes.

The young woman's fear was growing rapidly each step she took, and over and again she felt a kind of anger stirring that she could feel so scared simply because she was alone – fear and irritation was not a good combination for Kyla.

She sighed, turning around to face the empty street. To her right, a blue sign came into her view – she hadn't noticed it before. Her eyes tried to adjust to the fog but when she was unsuccessful, she had to walk closer to the intimidating fence.

"Wood Side Apartments..." that had come up in the things she'd found at Chris' place, in that book, the one covered in notes made in a frenzied hand that was still obviously her brothers… the book the police hadn't mentioned to her at all…

Stuffing her hands into her pockets to keep them warm, she yelped when her fingers bushed something icy and hard.

Remembering what it was, she took the key out of her pocket, frowning at it as she turned it over in the light.

"'WS'…" her frown deepened, as she looked back up at the apartment complex in all its desolate glory, "Maybe this is it?"

Surely that would be too convenient the brunette thought as she walked along the fence, hoping to find an open gate. When she reached the corner of the structure with no success, she realized that it was useless. There was only one-way into the apartment complex unless you had the key to the heavy looking padlock and chain that secured the gate: to climb.

A simple wire fence surrounded the apartments. It couldn't have been much more than six or seven feet high, and there were a number of places the barbed wire that lined the top had come loose and fallen away, or more likely been cut.

Biting her chapped and chilled lips, Kyla glanced up and down the abandoned streets trying to make a decision.

Climb the fence, or go in search of something to actually keep her alive; clothing, food, and possibly shelter, all of these things she could get with some luck from the town's police department.

_Which is where I should go… If I can find it… or someone who knows where it is…_

Kyla had priorities other than chasing some arsonist around town like a dime store detective.

"Maybe someone's in the apartment… Maybe they'll help me…"

There were so many 'maybes' in this trip.

Sighing for what felt like the thousandth time since Chris had left her and placing the key back into her pocket, Kyla poked her fingers through the small squares and tugged, having no idea if the resultant rattle meant the fence would support her or not, but reassured anyway.

"Here I am: climbing a fence trying to get to a guy who slashed my tires and maybe burned down the place I was staying as well. And I'm doing this rather than going to the police because he might be living in the same place my brother was researching…"

She cursed herself for being so stupid. She was talking to herself, something that had always been a habit of hers when in a stressful situation. And every time she grasped it was no use.

No one was going to answer.

* * *

Detective Ashley Wilson knocked on the door, the lone sound echoing through the corridor. The occupant hadn't answered her phone calls – nor did she answer her door the day prior. Wilson ran a tender hand through her close-cropped auburn hair, waiting and hoping that today the door to open. She looked around the apartment's closed quarter hallway, a by-product of the penny-pinching era it had been built in and felt a light shiver run up her spine.

Claustrophobia was a bitch.

The building manager was standing a few meters away from the detective, shuffling nervously on her feet in a way rookies always thought meant people were hiding something, but that experienced officers recognized as a natural expression of mistrust from the citizenry they were supposed to be protecting.

"She hasn't answered her door for at least two maybe three days… It's almost rent day, so I check on everyone during the week leading up to it, looking for anyone who might try to skip…" the woman in her late fifties said, her voice sounded as though someone was scrapping something on a chalkboard – a smoker's voice.

The old woman's beady, bloodshot eyes darted around the detective as she spoke, addressing the other occupant of the hallway more so than the person she was supposed to be talking to.

Wilson sighed in frustration.

"Hey, Ben," she whispered to her partner, who was never far behind. He looked over at her with his gorgeous brown eyes and black buzzed hair – strong Hispanic features set in an expression of polite disinterest as he leafed through the notes she'd made about the Donovan girl after her interview. "Cover me… When suspects go missing that never means fun for us."

Ben gave a half hearted smile, rubbing his shoulder for a moment, the small button shaped scar hidden there a permanent reminder to him of what she was implying, a souvenir from another case.

She looked at the manager. "You stay here."

As Benjamin Rodriguez nodded his head, she cleared her throat, placing a hand on the doorknob. Turning it slightly, she was surprised to hear the satisfying noise of an unlocked door's catch sliding unobtrusively aside.

"Hello?" She called, one hand resting lightly on the contents of her hidden holster. This was only a missing person's case after all, if a weird one.

Kyla's apartment had a bohemian look to it – a chair to the left of the door, a hallway right as you enter the door that led to the living room and kitchen. It was in great shape for an old building.

Wilson lifted her left hand, signaling for Rodriguez to go ahead of her as she checked the living room. Without looking back, she heard his quiet footsteps behind her.

Clearing the apartment room by room, they found no trace of it's resident, or any signs that she had left by any means other than her own free will. Of course that didn't mean anything more than she hadn't suspected whoever took her, after all, why leave your apartment after filing a missing persons report. And if you did, why leave without locking the door?

One person goes missing, and then the person who reported their disappearance also vanishes… what was the link?

"Where is she?" The older male inquired, "Do you think she ran?"

"She told me she'd be here days ago…" Wilson sighed, looking around the coffee table. "Besides, Ben, she has no reason to run. She claimed she was innocent – and I believe her."

"Why?"

"I don't know… just a feeling I have," she shrugged.

"You can't rely on-"

Wilson cut him off. "_-feelings. You have to rely on facts_. I know Benny. It's just that… I don't know. This whole thing just seems weird. Come on, let's go report to McLean before she tans our hides… She'll want to cut this area off. One person goes missing it's a shame, two people, two _related _people from the same area go missing and something's not right."

"Southern lingo… I still don't get it," Rodriguez jested, though his frown said he agreed with her reasoning, "She'll show up, Ashley. Just give it time, all right? Maybe she just went to see her family?"

"Not possible. Parents died years ago. She called in a month ago, reporting that her _brother_ had gone missing." Sighing, the female detective continued, "We'll have to leave this place to the CSI's. They'll have more luck than us… Call McLean; tell her we need a team ASAP. I'll stay here and secure the scene."

Rodriguez agreed and headed out the cold apartment, leaving Wilson all to her self.

She couldn't help but stand in the middle of the small living quarters, thinking to herself. _This Kyla Donovan character seems a bit… off. Nothing matches up. This brother of hers just… vanished. And just when we start to realize we can't find out a damn thing about what happened him she steps into thin air too… he has to be somewhere, they both do…_

* * *

Kyla fingered her pocketknife in her pocket, the old habit bringing her a little comfort– she always had it on her, even when she slept. The apartment complex was two stories high, a brick façade – the paint from the sign out front was dimming, falling off in flakes.

Her hand reached the knob of the entrance, hesitant to turn the nearly frostbitten handle.

Stepping into the building, a gust of hot air hit her, warming her slightly. Kyla noticed the lights were off; the only glow was the open door. Her hand reached over to her right – hoping to find a light switch. Fumbling with it, the simple turn dial design hard to make out at first in the dim light she turned it timidly to the right and the lights came on momentarily, flooding the waiting area in a harsh neon glow… only to blow out moments later.

It shocked her.

Literally.

Pulling back away from the contraption, Kyla gripped her hand protectively, though the damage was already done.

"Un-fucking-believable!" She yelled, however it was more frustration and anger than the pain from the short that caused her outburst. "Why doesn't anything in this god damned town work?!"

Her voice echoed through the darkened room, bouncing up the shadowed staircase she'd seen for a moment and away – scaring her.

"Why the hell am I here?" She found herself asking aloud, a question to forever be unanswered. "Why can't I just go home…?"

It was as if someone or something was pulling her further and further into the ghost town.

Kyla looked up when she saw a beam of light rocking back and forth, the dot on the wall becoming larger as the owner drew closer with the creak of dangerously old wood preceding each new footfall.

"Who's there?" the brunette asked, her hand snaking toward her pocket and the knife inside.

"Oh, welcome," a backwash of the light was strong enough now that Kyla could see the man carrying it. Old, many wrinkles adorning his brow and face, cheeks showing the first discoloration of age, he seemed to be of Asian descent, though the torch light didn't give her much to go on.

He wore a simple outfit: an old, moth bitten brown-stripped business suit with tattered tennis shoes, and seemed rather unsurprised both by the state of the building, and the presence of a young woman he'd never seen before standing in the middle of the darkened entrance.

"Who are you?" she repeated.

"I'm Nelson Nua. I'm the owner of Woodside.", he replied, cocking his head to one side as if she'd asked a particularly bizarre question.

"What happened to this town?" Kyla found herself blurting, the relief of having found someone else at last giving voice to all the questions that had been building inside her.

"How you mean?" again that look, as if she was asking things that should have been obvious.

Perhaps he thought she was a local?

"It's like a ghost town here. Why?" Kyla inquired, feeling her gut clench and squirm when he suddenly smiled as if he'd figured something out, his mouth making a curious 'O' shape as he did so.

"Ah, I understand now, a new arrival? Go ahead… look around. Relax… perhaps", he chuckled, apparently that was supposed to be funny, "You'll find out soon enough."

His voice was somewhat baleful, almost regretful.

"Oh, and you might need this," he nodded to the light he carried, tossing it down to Kyla from where he stood halfway between the first floor landing and the entrance.

It was small and included a small metal clip so that it could be fasten to clothing of the owner so desired.

"We'll see you soon… now hurry, child. Your _Brother_ is waiting."

"Thanks…" The woman said as his footsteps began to shuffle back upward, her chest tightening as what he'd said fully registered.

"Wait! What do you know about Chris? Hey! I said wait!" but the man was gone.

There was no sign of him; it was as if the flashlight in her hand was the only proof he had ever existed.

Suddenly, leaving seemed like an even better decision than it had before, and yet something, a morbid sense of curiosity lured her onward.

She turned to face the stairs. "No turning back now, Ky… Just do it."

And yet her legs refused to move. Just the thought of ascending those stairs, the light now hooked onto the belt loops of her trousers, swaying with each step, filled her head with vertigo, and her throat with bile.

There was something waiting for her up there in the dark and worse she suddenly realized, she could feel the eyes again, the senseless dread, crouched somewhere on the landing above and it was watching her, waiting for… something.

In front of her an unassuming white door stood out in the glow of the torch, whispering words of sanctuary to her raw nerves, telling her wooden legs to move before the thing above chose to stop waiting and come for her.

Kyla swallowed, her throat feeling so very dry as the Dread stirred, stretching coiled limbs lazily.

Stifling a moan of distress, the green-eyed girl felt sweat beading on the back of her neck and her vision began to blur. It was as if she was suddenly in the grip of a powerful fever.

"Help…" she whispered, "Someone…help…"

Above, the Dread yawned; it's all devouring moor opening wide, scolding hot breath rushing down the stairwell and washing over her.

Knock Knock

There was a shadow at the white door, an outline rapping on the dusty glass.

"Help… Me…" she wheezed, her throat raw and sandpapered, not a scrap of moisture remaining.

Louder and louder the figure rapped, it's tapping growing in pace and intensity until Kyla feared the person on the other side would come smashing through the glass in a bloody heap.

Hot… was getting so hot, and the tapping was starting to draw the Dread's attention, another blistering roar whistling down the stairs, smoke rising from the exposed wood.

"Just… just be…quiet," she tried to tell the silhouette, gagging as something hot and coppery leaked down the back of her throat. God, why was it so hot?

_BANG_

_BANG_

_BANG_

The shadow was frenzied now, hurling itself against the glass as if it's life depended upon it, yet the seemingly fragile barrier refused to yield, but Kyla could no longer hear it, the heat seemed to have boiled her brain, and now her consciousness swam along on eddies of fire and the edges of the world turned red.

The last thing she remembered as she hit the floor was that the figure had grown still, limp against the glass, and the Dread growled a silent growl as mercifully, everything faded away.


	4. Black Fairy

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Silent Hill. Silent Hill © belongs to, and will forever belong to, Konami. This is non-profit only. I only own the characters in this story.

**Author's Notes: **Special thanks to my best friend in the whole wide world, **Neo**, for helping me create, making me understand, and giving me the knowledge to get this story up and running. Thanks!

Thank you so much for the reviews. I really appreciate them. Whenever I see a review alert in my inbox, I feel all giddy inside. :)

**Rating: **M for violence, sexual themes, language

**Summary: **For months, she wanted to know the truth about her brother's sudden disappearance. But to find the truths, she seeks she must unravel the lies she's created.

**BEFORE READING: Every chapter title (including the prologue) is the name of a Silent Hill song. So if you want to get into the real 'mood', then I suggest listening to the song whilst reading.**

The Truth That Lies

_Chapter Three: Black Fairy_

_She was in her bed with her back to the door – she was crying, holding a pillow up to her chest. There really was no other way to express it but to cry – cry for her parents, who died a week prior. Their funeral was tomorrow…_

"_Ky…?" A soft voice called._

"_Chris," __her voice hiccupped as she tried to wipe away the tears before he reached her._

_Too late._

"_Shhh…" a warm hand landed softly on her head, mussing brown hair, much shorter than it would later become, and the young girl latched onto the only source of comfort left to her, wanting to wail away her tears._

_But something was wrong._

_He seemed thinner, lighter than he should have been, and as she tightened her grip he seemed to crumble to her touch, staining small arms a sooty black_

_"Chris!" she cried_

_"Hush Ky, nothing's wrong," he whispered even as his body dissolved to ash in her grasp, his face hovering in the air impossibly above her, gray ash obscuring his gentle features_

_His voice came again, distorted, deeper than it should have been._

_"D... be... afraid... Ky."_

_He smiled with blackened teeth and laughed, embers flying from his mouth and stinging her face._

_Kyla screamed._

* * *

Kyla awoke with a start, sucking in each breath as if she'd had no air until she'd woken and gripping her head in complete agony. It felt as though her skull was being bashed in and stabbed with a large, melting steel pipe. She couldn't help but feel like rolling over and just dying in the place she lay. 

Managing to pull herself up from the ground, the flashlight she'd been given rolled noisily across the floor as it fell from her lap.

Pulling her hands away from her aching head, she was able to grab it after a few false tries, her vision swimming and elongating, making the torch seem always just a little further away than she was reaching, and safely reattach it to her belt.

Her hands were trembling and her eyes felt puffy, the crisp patches of dried out skin that ran in trails down her face telling her she'd been crying in her sleep.

And then the memory of what had happened before she blacked out came crashing back and Kyla hugged herself tightly.

_Something_ was after her, something horrible.

Crawling toward the cracked plaster wall, blurred eyes could just make out in front of her, she braced against it as she tried to stand. Her legs wobbled, as though wanting to collapse where she stood and soon gave out, dropping her unceremoniously on her backside with her back to the wall.

What she had seen and heard before she 'passed out'… her mind struggled to cope with it, fighting against the idea any of it could have been real. She never, in her twenty-eight years of life, felt something as atrocious as that. The heat, the terror, the lurching sickness as she watched the shadowy figure throw itself against the glass in desperation, over and over and over…

Aching all over, and suddenly feeling the urge to cry, barely stifled, Kyla somehow pulled herself together, gripping a the pole of a coat rack she came across as she dragged her protesting body across the floor, to help herself up.

Managing to stand on both feet without too much struggle, Kyla was relieved. She looked around as the new elevation seemed to help her vision clear.

"Wait… this isn't…" she croaked, her voice reedy and dry, sending her in a coughing fit even as she tried to make sense of what she saw.

The room around her was spartanly designed, the unpainted plaster showing darker patches in thing strips on either side of the room, showing that there had been drywalls there until recently when the room had been expanded to presumably make room for all of the bookshelves- most empty- that lined the walls.

Behind her was an oversized and out of place mahogany desk, a rickety swivel chair plucked out of a nineteen fifties PI office behind it, both graced with a liberal coating of dust, though the desk also sported a number of messy piles of paper stuffed into coffee stained folders.

Against the opposite wall sat a torn leather couch, brown and uncomfortable looking and a surprisingly new and intact looking glass coffee table, a few more folders seemingly dropped at random across its surface.

Over to her right a window nestled behind a set of metal blinds, the bottom corner of the pane broken as if some one had hurled a baseball into the room.

_No_, she corrected herself, noticing the absence of any glass on the floor. Not in, someone had thrown something out of the room, though what and why she had no idea.

Outside all she could see from where she stood was a swirling gray mist that prevented her from even guessing which side of the building she was in.

"How… did I get… here?" she coughed out, craning her head around to see the unassuming green door, its simple brass doorknob and eyehole the only adornments it sported.

Kyla shivered as the artic breeze from outside whistled in through the jagged hole in the window.

She looked at the coat rack, noticing a lone, white blazer hanging limply from the far hook. It looked as though it was years old – a few holes here and there, a couple of stains, but that was basically it. Kyla grabbed it, putting it around her. It was warm, as if someone had worn it just minutes before.

Pulling it closed, she grabbed the flashlight from her hip, placing it in the breast pocket, securing it so it wouldn't stray.

A little warmer than before, her head finally felt steady enough to stand unaided and she was happy to see her legs agreed also.

"I need a cigarette," she moaned, the sudden and absurd notion of her outburst suddenly giving her the strange urge to laugh for some reason.

Staggering a little, she made it to the door, opening it with a squeal of protest from aging hinges that almost stopped her heart, and peered out into the gloomy hallway beyond.

To her left was yet another door, this one blue, metal, a push-bar rather than a handle providing exit, and to her right, at the end of the corridor, was a very familiar white door, the dirty glass still impenetrable by her torch beam, and a the blackened outline of a two human legs etched into the lower half of the doorway beneath the glass.

Kyla felt her stomach heave and looked away as she coughed and choked for a moment, the sudden stench of smoke invading her nose and mouth.

Beyond that door was that thing, the monster that stalked her in this town with fiery breath that burned her skin and icy eyes that froze her insides.

The Dread.

Retreating into the office she had woken in, Kyla pulled the door to and perched on the edge of the desk, her elbows on her knees and her head in her hands, gasping in short, shallow gulps until the rising panic subsided.

She may not have known what that thing was, where it came from or why it was following her, but she did know that however she had gotten away from it after she blacked out, she couldn't risk her good fortune by going back into that room. There had to be another way out of this building.

A quick search of the office turned up nothing except a note about the pool in the courtyard being drained some months ago since fall was soon to set in and it would be a safety hazard while no one would be using in such low temperatures.

It was as she fretted that she would never find a way out without searching the place herself that she found the notepad.

Buried under a mountain of folders, it seemed to have been used as a sort of loose diary or journal by whoever owned it. As she flicked through it, one page caught her eye. The top corner had been torn off, so she couldn't be sure when it had been written, but it seemed newer than the rest of the entries.

_---- r Grayson came to see me today. Such a strange man always keeps to himself so I was surprised to see him out of his apartment. Usually he's shut in there all day doing whatever he does. Not that it matters, as long as he keeps paying his rent, even if he does scare his neighbors a little…_

No man should be---- 

Ink and coffee smeared over the next paragraph, but it soon resumed.

_--- He came to tell me that his apartment had been broken into, things ripped and damaged, but he wasn't upset about that, just kept ranting on and on about a book that was missing. "The Ash-White Prince" he called it, some sort of fantasy novel I assumed. Never did get what people like about that stuff personally but he was really angry, I though his scrawny neck would burst with all the veins struggling to the surface._

_He blamed the Edward brothers. Not really brothers of course, they just call themselves that, bad apples the three of them, always up to no good, but again they pay their rent on time so what could I really do?  
_

_I told him I'd keep an eye out but he insisted that they had to be punished, even threatened to go over to their apartments himself, not that they're ever in them. The younger pair live in 101 and 104 across the courtyard, but they spend most of their time with the eldest in 212._

_Calmed him down eventually, and searched a little… I found the book's cover in the trash, all the pages ripped out. It's strange though, looking at the cover I'm sure it's a child's picture book, but Grayson doesn't have any kids I ever heard about… creepy._

_To make matters worse, Mrs. Johnson in 207 saw the boys with the book, so I guess they really did take it, I'll have to ask them ---_

Again the page was ripped, cutting off whatever other misgivings the writer had felt about all of this.

Turning the page, Kyla felt her heart stop.

_---ybe I can ask the new guy, Donovan, to help. He seems pretty tough… but just in case; I always have _that _in the bottom draw…_

Dropping the notepad from numb hands, Kyla walked around the desk slowly, sinking to her knees as she opened the lower draw of the oversized desk, her mind taking a moment to understand the two items therein.

First was a dull red book cover, the childishly drawn picture of a white clad prince on his mighty steed rubbed out in places and the title "The Ash-White Prince", beginning to loose its printed luster.

The second was a shocking contrast. Shiny and new, polished to a ridiculous degree, was an old fashioned six-shooter; the dull gold circles fit snuggly in each of the barrels of its chamber showing that it was still loaded.

She picked it up carefully, not placing her fingers anywhere near the trigger lest she set it off by accident.

Kyla eyed it for a couple of seconds before placing it in the comfortable confines of her loose belt. Normally she wouldn't have gone anywhere near a gun, loaded or otherwise, but normal was something this trip had bypassed a while ago.

Something nestled at the back of the couch caught her eye.

Lying there, snuggled between the seat padding and the backing was a small, rectangular pack of old-school Bronco's.

Kyla felt herself swallow thickly, her eyes darting around the room possessively for a second before returning to the cigarettes. They were meretriciously pulling her closer to them.

Kyla had never been a 'hardcore' smoker like most of the people in the diner she worked at, but in stressful situations…

This certainly counted as stressful.

She walked over and grabbed them. The nicotine-craving voice in the back of her head didn't care about how old they were – nor did it care about her lungs at that point - all she wanted was a cigarette.

She opened the pack, it was new but the brand was old – it was still in the plastic. She felt as though it was placed there for her.

Taking a cigarette out of the packet, she placed it in her mouth, reaching in her back pocket for the copper lighter and after a few fumbling tries lighting up, inhaling the sweet tasting vapors, tar be damned.

Letting smoky fingers floss her brain for a moment, she exhaled deeply, half through her nose and the other through her mouth. Kyla felt light headed crumpling with a happy kind of sigh onto the stiff couch. All she wanted to do was lie back and forget the day she'd had.

It always happened to her when she smoked, she mused, taking another drag and releasing it slowly – getting lightheaded was. She was a smoker but whenever she took a few weeks off because of her hectic schedule, that first breath always left her dizzy. It was as if her brain was craving the nicotine so much that it went into overload.

She sighed, another purr of contentment before inhaling the tar smoke once again. As her eyes dropped, as though her eyelids were rubbing against sand paper.

_Exhausted…_

She wanted to sleep – craved it. But…

_I have to leave this room before that _thing_ comes._

Kyla stood up, cigarette dangling from her mouth. She pushed the packet into the other breast pocket and continued on, gripping the door handle gently before turning, her chest tightening and her stomach lurching as she tried not to think about what was down the hall to her right outside.

_I think I'm going to have a heart attack…_

Opening the door, pushing gently until it couldn't go any further, the flashlight attached to her belt swaying back and forth, she stepped out slowly.

She glanced at the door where 'The Dread' had been, as Kyla had come to term it. There was no sign of it, but then again she had never actually _seen_ it per se in the first place.

Creeping toward the door to her left, eyes locked on the white door at the end of the corridor, Kyla's hand quested blindly, bumping into the push-bar and gripping it with white knuckles.

She pushed, the bar moving perhaps an inch with the tortured scream of metal on metal before stopping dead and refusing to move.

Spinning toward it, the brunette braced both hands against it and froze. The moment she'd taken her eyes off the white door, all too familiar fingers had begun to play along her spine, the hairs on the back of her neck rising one by one as the frozen digits worked their way upward.

"Oh god, oh god, oh god," she found herself babbling, willing herself to push down the bar and escape, but her limbs would only respond by trembling.

Something seemed to whisper past her ear, brushing the lobe as it did so.

With a scream, Kyla hurled her small body against the door, the bar moving down without protest and dragging her out into the cold and the gray beyond with her own momentum as it followed the doors path.

Gripping the edge of the metal barrier, Kyla swung it back into place, closing the door with a mighty crash and sealing whatever had been there in the corridor.

Slumping to her knees, panting and crying, the slender girl didn't even care at that moment that the handle that allowed entry back into the building on this side seemed to have been broken off, or that her hard earned cancer-stick lay crumpled on the cracked concrete.

As her tiny sobs echoed around the empty courtyard it was becoming increasingly apparent, that in this twisted fairytale, no one was coming to save her.


	5. Prisonic Fairytale Part I

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Silent Hill. Silent Hill © belongs to, and will forever belong to, Konami. This is non-profit only. I only own the characters in this story.

**Author's Notes: **Special thanks to my best friend in the whole wide world, **Neo**, for helping me create, making me understand, and giving me the knowledge to get this story up and running. Thanks!

**Rating: **M for violence, sexual themes, language

**Summary: **For months, she wanted to know the truth about her brother's sudden disappearance. But to find the truth, she seeks to unravel the lies she's created.

**Sorry for the long wait. I've been a little bit ill the last couple of days. I've been in bed almost all day - it sucks. Plus, I've been obsessed with the game The Elder Scrolls IV: Oblivion. It's a good game. Ya'll should check it out.**

The Truth That Lies

_Chapter Four: Prisonic Fairytale Part I_

Eventually there were no more tears left, and in time even the shallow sobs that racked her tiny frame subsided and Kyla found her way back to her feet.

She swiped at her now puffy eyes, embarrassed and angry, but not at herself, no, now she was mad at the thing that had made her breakdown.

Stopping her feet, Kyla looked around as she rubbed at her arms.

It felt as though her blood was ice. She was freezing all over, despite having the heavy jacket over her. The cold air nipped at her hands, face, and a little bit of her exposed stomach. Pulling the jacket closed she shifted uncomfortable from foot to foot.

The cold stricken woman walked forward, not knowing where she was going. She could barely see three feet in front of her, the fog somehow seeming to huddle in this man made clearing of urban construction.

She remembered reading about Silent Hill a few days ago, before coming to the empty town. Brochures, Internet sites, basically everything she could possibly find claimed that this was the best resort town in Virginia. They had the sunniest skies, a nice lake, and a very welcoming community.

Curiously they had all failed to mention rude and inhospitable locals, dense fogs and inhuman terrors that stalked newcomers.

This place was anything _but _welcoming.

Kyla muttered incoherent curses, the kind she usually reserved for her brother's car when it misbehaved.

Through the fog, she saw a glimpse of what could be a light in the next building and a shadow.

Though it was too indistinct to call it human, or anything else, Kyla felt herself cringe.

There was a dull thud and Kyla let out an involuntary yelp of distress.

Across the way the shadow was gone and the door hung open, creaking back and forth in the non-existent breeze.

She thought about running away – just… leaving. This place was too creepy for her want. Sure, she's been to haunted houses at the mall on Halloween, but this town… nothing compared to this town. It was reality and she had to face it.

Walking towards the door cautiously, Kyla could not help but think about what The Dread could possibly want from her.

When she arrived in Silent Hill, she felt it. She felt it near her.

Kyla had felt it the moment she entered the gas station, past that door. The feeling she got was subtle. Ever since then, she felt eyes on her – as though someone or something was watching her every move.

It ran through her veins – fear.

She reached the door on the other end of the courtyard. The woman swallowed hard, placing her hand on the open door. She reached for her flashlight, taking it out of the breast pocket slowly before entering the building.

Kyla could see her breath frost up. She sighed, walking into the dark corridor. Pointing her flashlight to a lone passageway to the right… she saw a child.

"Wait!" she called out even as confused paralysis locked her muscles for a moment as the child… at least she though it had been a child, darted away from the comforting halo of the flashlight and into the shadows.

Kyla should have known better – but that didn't stop her. She ran after the figure who bolted into the safety of Room 101.

She stopped. She remembered what that diary had said.

… _The Edward brothers. The diary said something about them being bad apples…_

She tried to remember what room he had written down.

_Room 101, 104, and 212…_

"The Bad Apples…"

She walked to the door, placing her hand on the surprisingly warm doorknob.

"… This whole building is freezing, so why not this door…" she stated with a frown, turning it whilst embracing whatever warmth it had.

The room was dark. When Kyla turned left, she noticed a kitchen directly in front of her – the refrigerator knocked over, not allowing any entry. She walked forward, seeing two doors on either sides of the room.

"Where'd they go…?" The confused woman asked herself. "They couldn't have gone far."

Kyla walked over to the door closest to her, which was slightly ajar. She pushed it open, allowing the flashlight to illuminate whatever it possibly could – which wasn't much.

There was one light on, just one. It was right next to the bed – a nightlight.

It shone down on a piece of paper. She walked over to it, picking it up. Kyla turned off her flashlight, sitting on the bed while leaning forward.

"_Once upon a time, there was a princess who lived on a small, nice island. All the peasants worked day and night to keep the Royal family happy._"

There was a picture, she noticed.

A very tall castle with white orchids and trees surrounding the gigantic structure.

"What did they want with this…?" she questioned, having a hard time picturing hardened thugs reading children's books. Kyla flipped the page over and continued reading.

"_Then one dark and stormy night, the prince of the castle disappeared. The princess was very upset. She stayed in her room day and night hoping for his return. When the Ash-White prince didn't come back, she left the castle when everyone was in bed and went out into the big wide world to search for him all by herself._"

The picture showed a brown-haired girl leaving the castle wearing a simple blue dress.

"What is this?" Kyla questioned, her heart sinking.

She never read many fairytales in her childhood… but she didn't know of any that sounded so… gloomy.

Somewhere in the apartment a door creaked open and suddenly slammed with a nerve splitting bang. Kyla jumped, reaching for the gun in her belt, stopping just as her had grazed the grip as she realized who it had to be.

_The child!_

She ran out into the living area, looking back and forth. The door that had made the racket was wheezing – moving back and forth. Whoever had gone through there had been in a hurry and not closed it properly.

Kyla didn't know where it led, so she didn't go any further and there was now another sound in the room beside the blood thundering in her ears.

A grating, static hiss that suddenly burst into the sound of cheerful trumpets and excited shouts.

A little backtracking found the old television set in the living area, the ancient wooden box blaring away.

It showed a brightly colored set around which screaming children played. Laughing and dancing to a tune she remembered from her childhood.

"_London bridges falling down, falling down, falling-"_ The children laughed and fell, making her smile. They looked so happy.

Kyla watched for a minute before realizing how stupid she felt. Allowing herself to get sidetracked by something so childish…

She sat down on the dusty couch, coughing as the dust invaded her nose. Kyla covered it momentarily while the dust settled.

Reaching over to her right, hand fumbling for a light switch on the lamp, she found it and the bright light covered most of the room.

She felt safe there – a safe haven. Kyla sat with her elbows on her thighs, slouched over slightly. She reached for the pack of cigarettes, eyeing them for a second. The Bronco on the front stared back at her.

Tapping the bottom of the packet with one finger, she thought about the kid who had led her in here only to run away again when she followed

Obviously the child didn't want to be found by anyone, but this place was not somewhere one so young should be left alone…

She placed the packet back into her breast pocket and stood.

"I have to find that kid…"

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

The station was quiet that day.

The only sounds were the echoing footsteps outside the lit office and voices of Detective's Ben Rodriguez and Ashley Wilson.

It was too early in the morning for this…

"_Name: Kyla Lee Donovan ; Age: 28 ; Sex: Female; Date of Birth: 1-2-1979 ; Birth Place: Silent Hill, Virginia_."

"So what do you think about all this?" Rodriguez asked his partner.

Putting the case file down onto the wooden desk, Wilson leaned forward and placed her tired head into the comfortable confines of her hands, rubbing gently.

"I don't know. It's too early in the case to find anything…" she started, looking at the clock tiredly.

_6:45 in the damn morning…_

She sighed, attempting to form an answer in her empty head before she continued.

"It's uncanny. How could two people disappear like that and have no one notice? There was no sign of struggle. Ms. Donovan's clothes were still in the closet, and all drawers were full, no sign of a hasty leave," she answered, taking a sip of coffee in hope that it would wake her up somehow.

"Also," Rodriguez started, sitting on the corner of her desk, "the suitcase was still in there as well."

He, too, had a bad feeling about this case. He was on night duty for three days straight now. He missed hanging out at the bar with his friends.

_It's like everyone in this damned city has it out for me…_

"Is the scene still secure?" He asked, voice rough. When Wilson nodded, he continued, "Well, I can go back to her apartment and take one last look around after questioning the people in the apartments."

"If you feel it's necessary, but the CSI's and I spent five extra hours there looking at every square inch of the apartment… even dusted the walls for prints."

She took another sip of her coffee.

"You work them too hard… I'll go back once more and do a quick sweep just incase you guys missed something."

Wilson was too tired to yell at him. She was basically his boss, and he just put her down in the dumps.

"Alright, do what you feel obligated to do – but for now, I'm going to go give the chief an update."


	6. Meloncoly Requiem

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Silent Hill. Silent Hill © belongs to, and will forever belong to, Konami. This is non-profit only. I only own the characters in this story.

**Author's Notes: **Special thanks to my best friend in the whole wide world, **Neo**, for helping me create, making me understand, and giving me the knowledge to get this story up and running. Thanks!

**Rating: **M for violence, sexual themes, language

**Summary: **For months, she wanted to know the truth about her brother's sudden disappearance. But to find the truth, she seeks to unravel the lies she's created.

**This chapter is focused on detectives Ashley Wilson and Benjamin Rodriguez. That's why the title of the chapter is not related to Silent Hill. It's the name of a song that I enjoy and it's by the Sick Puppies.**

The Truth That Lies

_Chapter Five: Melancholy Requiem_

Knock. Knock.

"Come in!" A deep, female voice called.

Wilson, nervously, opened the door. It was surprising how a whip like woman like McLean could reduce you to rookie status without even being in the same room.

"Ah… Detective. Have a seat, please," the chief was slightly heavy set these days, something many an unfortunate rookie had made the mistake of contrasting against her name, and her chair creaked as she sat, though that was from use not weight.

"So how is your case going with the missing siblings?" she asked, steeping her fingers beneath her chin and leaning back, sharp, flint colored eyes putting a sense of expectance behind her casual tone, one accented by a slightly quirked eyebrow and a smile too professional to be genuine.

"Not well, ma'am. We went to the scene yesterday and found nothing. There was no sign of struggle and everything seemed to be in place…" She said, leaning back in the seat across from Chief McLean, a seat that might have been plucked out of a schoolroom for how uncomfortable it was.

"It seems as though they just vanished in thin air. No one saw them leave their apartments or anything of the sort."

"So what do you think happened?" McLean asked, or should it have been prompted?

"Um… It's too early to come to any conclusions yet. We're hoping to find some more clues over the next few days so we can find them." Wilson finished, several very long hours of intensive investigation and their conclusion suddenly feeling grossly inadequate when distilled down to the bottom line like this.

"You've only been here for a year, correct?" the chief inquired, her gaze thoughtful now, though the auburn haired woman couldn't be sure if that was a good or bad thing.

"Yes, ma'am," she answered cautiously.

"And you've had… how many cases?"

Wilson thought about this for a moment. She could tell that the other woman was not happy. The look on her face… subtly tense, brow pensive, cheeks drawn in slightly and head tilted on an angle as if trying to make sense of something unpleasant… the flaring of the nostrils…

"Five, ma'am…" she managed.

"And out of those, how many were completed without incident?"

Wilson knew where McLean was going with this.

"Two", she had the minor satisfaction of hearing herself respond in a steady, even voice.

"Exactly. You better find those two, as soon as possible or it'll be your badge. Dismissed."

Cringing inside, Wilson stood up, pushing the chair back into its place as she walked out of the chief's office, McLean's last words still ringing over and over in her head like a bad dream.

"…_How many were completed without incident?"_

Three cases had ended badly, in no small part due to Ben's reminder out in the hallway.

Eyes sharpening, she brushed off the specters of the past. If the Chief wanted a flawless performance then by god she was going to get one.

* * *

Rodriguez stepped out of his car, walking towards Dee's Diner. The cold, winter breeze making him pull his jacket closed.

Chicago looked amazing – beautiful – when it was covered in white flakes, delicate ice crystals falling down everywhere in gentle drifts.

Reaching the warmth of the diner he shook the snow from his hair and jacket and glanced around the unusually dead establishment.

"Hey, Dee. Closed or something _bonita senorita_?"

"Nah, we're usually pretty empty during the weekdays. Haven't seen you around here for… strikes I don't know how long! We've missed your mischief here. What'cha need, Benny?" Dee asked from the counter, placing her newspaper down and resting on her elbows to talk to him.

"Well, why don't you make me some breakfast first?" He smiled.

Dee was a southern girl who moved to a big town with high hopes and ended up with her own business, if not as profitable as she had once dreamed. She was in her late forties now though Ben always told her no one could tell.

She smiled at him, "Only if you tip me this time."

"Hey, I was in a hurry. Had to get back to the job, you know?"

"Yeah, yeah, yeah. Excuses," she teased, rolling her eyes at him when he tried out a dashing smile that probably would have melted a younger woman.

In no time at all, Rodriguez's food was on the counter and he tucked in with the enthusiasm of a man starved for days before getting straight to the point.

"Kyla Donovan hasn't been working here long, has she?"

Dee frowned, she knew his work tone when she heard it.

"No, she hasn't. She hasn't been into work for a couple of days. Why d'ya ask?"

"Well, she called in a month ago, about her missing brother. Do you know anything about that?" Rodriguez asked, placing his fork down.

"No. All I know is that her brother is missing. Can't say as I ever had the pleasure, but that girl did used to go on 'bout him. Is Kyla okay?" she asked, a kind of motherly concern in her voice.

"We're not sure. She disappeared a few days ago and no one seems to know where. There was no sign of a struggle in her apartment and that's the last time the landlord saw her – on her way to her apartment – and she keeps a close eye on things, or so she says," he explained as she trotted over to the coffee machine, taking the freshly boiled pot off the plate.

Rodriguez sat back in the seat, one hand on the counter for support, as Dee came back with the pot and topped up his cup.

"Is Ms. Donovan a good waitress? Have you noticed anything suspicious about her?"

Dee thought about this for a moment before leaning towards the counter.

"No, I haven't actually. She's a good girl – always on time, never takes a day off, and socializes with the customers. She can name every person who walks though that there door if they're a regular."

"Hm…" He pulled out a couple of tens for Dee and placed them on the counter. "Keep the change. I'll come back later to ask you some more questions."

He wrote down a couple of digits on a napkin. "Call me if you need anything."

"But your bill was only eight dollars and forty five cents," she pointed out as he stood, dusting himself off.

"Hey, you said to tip you – there's your tip," he winked.

Dee smiled, "Okay, thanks, Benny. Oh, and Ben-" Rodriguez turned around, "you won't be so long next time, you hear?"

"Heh, _hasta luego_, Dee" he answered, smiling before turning back to the door and walking back out into the cold air. "Next stop, Kyla Donovan's apartment…"

* * *

Hours upon hours passed since her meeting with McLean.

Time seemed to go by slowly as Wilson sat at her desk, feet propped on the corner whilst reading the case file for what seemed like the millionth time.

Her eyes kept dropping on her. She didn't get a wink of sleep the night before – she kept thinking about the case. All she did was sit in bed, smoke a couple of cigarettes and watched television.

She suffered from insomnia when she had a disturbing case. The auburn haired woman didn't know why this case irked her so much – but two people who just vanish isn't really normal. They usually leave something behind – something that led to where they really were.

Wilson knew that if she kept her feet on the desk and her head against the seat, she'd fall asleep and that definitely wouldn't please the chief. She managed to pull herself from the comfortable position and leaned forward, eyeing the door.

She had the file memorized, but with the main witness, the erstwhile Ms. Donovan, missing it made things a lot more complicated.

Wilson sighed and placed the file on her desk, rubbing her cotton filled eyes. She eyed the clock.

"Four in the afternoon," she stated aloud, as though someone was with her. "Time to go home…"

Rodriguez hadn't returned from his 'investigation' and it usually didn't take him as long. Wilson picked up the phone, punching in his cell phone number.

The ring's seemed distant to her as the phone was pushed against her ear. She heard the satisfying click of the other line.

"Rodriguez."

"I'm heading home. What's taking you so long?" Wilson asked.

"I've been interrogating people around the building Ms. Donovan lives at all day long. I'm heading to the station now. I have something you'll love to know…"

"What's that?"

Wilson was suddenly intrigued; she leaned forward, placing her elbows on the desk.

"I'll tell you at the station- _EL PUTA!_," Rodriguez cursed over the sound of tired grinding asphalt. One day she really would have to talk to him about his driving, it set a bad precedent for a cop to drive like a lunatic.

"Calm down, Ben. Just come to my place at eight. I'm heading home. I'm getting a bit tired. I'll work on the rest of the case at my place," she stood up, placing her laptop into her bag.

"Okay but I'm not going to stay long – I have to get my beauty sleep," Rodriguez said, a hint of humor in his tone of voice.

Wilson rolled her eyes, hanging up the phone. Walking by the coat hanger, she grabbed her coat, struggling into it as she walked, grabbing her ivy cap hat at the last minute, keys in her mouth as she scoped her laptop case off the hallway stand. Spitting the keys into her hand once her affairs were in order, Wilson stepped outside, locking the door behind herself.

On her way out of the nearly empty station, Wilson waved and said goodbye to those who noticed her leaving, including McLean, who just smiled at her. She knew it wasn't a real smile – McLean was a tough woman who always got what she wanted, even if it meant taking someone's job away from them.

Her distaste for her boss rose at the thought that McLean would take _hers_ away from her; Wilson opened the station's front doors, allowing the cool, winter air to surround her. She looked around at the white ground.

The female detective hated winter – it felt as though the city was numb. People were inside their apartments, houses, anything, just to get away from the cold. She hunkered further into her jacket, hurrying to her car. The air nipped at what little skin was exposed as she walked quickly.

Home.

The tall building overlooked the block – it was the tallest building on the street. Low paying rent, a crappy façade, and old neighbors who lived in the apartments for over fifty years. Wilson lived in the apartments for over ten years.

Grabbing her laptop case and the files, Wilson stepped out of her car before locking it and allowed the cold air surround her. She shivered and hurried to the apartment building across the street. With shaky hands, she managed to stick the apartment key into the lock, turning it with a rusty squeal. The sound of a rusty door being pushed open satisfied her as she hurried into the building.

Wilson turned to the left, towards the elevator. Her dress shoes made a clicking noise each step – making the silent apartment a little less silent.

When she reached the elevator, she pushed the call button, hearing the satisfying whoosh of the elevator that must have been on an upper floor. She bounced on one leg in an attempt to tell the elevator to hurry it up. The woman cursed. She should've rented the 2nd story apartment instead of the 31st.

"I hate myself…" Wilson mumbled lowly.

A few seconds later, she contemplated on taking the stairs. She needed the workout anyway… or so she thought.

As if her prayers were answered, the elevator doors opened and Wilson was on her way to her apartment and for the next hour or so at least, a warm bed.


	7. Prisonic Fairytale Part II

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Silent Hill. Silent Hill © belongs to, and will forever belong to, Konami. This is non-profit only. I only own the characters in this story.

**Author's Notes: **Special thanks to my best friend in the whole wide world, **Neo**, for helping me create, making me understand, and giving me the knowledge to get this story up and running. Thanks!

**Rating: **M for violence, sexual themes, language

**Summary: **For months, she wanted to know the truth about her brother's sudden disappearance. But to find the truths, she seeks to unravel the lies she's created.

**Thank you guys for your patience. I hope you like this chapter.**

The Truth That Lies

_Chapter Six: Prisonic Fairytale Part II_

Every time she turned a corner, she felt as if someone's eyes were on her. Not only that but voices seemed to follow her everywhere she went, though she couldn't make out what they were saying.

No words were spoken, just faint mumblings and nonsensical whispers just as the threshold of perception, like absent mutterings of someone whose rational mind abandoned them long ago.

They had followed her out of room 101 – she knew it.

Kyla turned the corner, not knowing where she was going. She heard something crash at the end of the hallway. Her head moved to the right as her ears tried to follow the echo that engulfed the empty hallway. A shiver went up her spine, hearing something turn the corner, it's movements a broken staccato of shuffling footsteps followed every now and again by the dull grind of something heavy being dragged over wooden floors.

Kyla turned to the right, seeing room 204, the 2 and 4 were carved in to replace the missing numerals. She hurried in quickly and locked the door.

The room was empty – nothing but a lone chair and something that looked like a medieval stool carrying a candle. The stool was wooden and was not sanded down. It was old – Kyla had no doubt about that. She, cautiously, walked towards the middle of the room where the chair and stool resided, the flickering candle waving slowly to and fro.

The rest of the room had been covered in thick purple drapes, and the floor had been left bare, giving the room the appearance of a princess's cell in some ancient folk tale.

All it needed was a spinning wheel in one corner, she found herself musing, frowning as something about that idea niggled at her.

Kyla pulled the pieces of paper from her shin pocket of her pants.

She sat on the chair and bent forward, taking the last part of the fairytale and putting it together with the others, shuffling the discolored pages into order.

Kyla started to read.

"_The princess walked until dawn. She saw a lone fire not far from where she was. The lonely girl hurried towards the fire. As she ran, she felt her heart pound, not because of her running, but because of the thought that it would be the Ash-white prince. Happiness._"

The words were handwritten, which was unlike the first page she had gotten from room 104. Whoever owned this book apparently wanted to put in their own spin on the story's ending.

Whoever had done it was no Picasso. Even though the original illustrations hadn't been fine art they were much better than the scrawl she was currently deciphering.

And they obviously hadn't had a child audience in mind.

The picture caught Kyla's eye. The princess had a frightful expression on her face –

Eyes wide and starring, two hollow black orbs in the center of her face, tears and dirt mingling as they streamed down her face and a cruel parody of a smile carved into her face.

And behind her, something formless lingered, a smudge at the edge of the page that seemed to hover above the unsuspecting girl hungrily.

Kyla's skin pricked with an itchy sweat that seemed to come out of nowhere.

She trembled and continued reading.

"_Back at the castle, people were frightened that the princess ran away – she had the perfect life, people had said. She had no reason to run. Some knew why she ran – she wanted to find the Ash-white prince. Others said she was running away from the l_"

Kyla turned the page, ignoring the smudged out word.

"_When she arrived – the sight was gruesome. Bodies of dead, burning beings lay in the pit of fire. She screamed – seeing their expressions, heat warped limbs cracked and charred reaching to her._"

"Oh my god…" Kyla muttered, her stomach heaving at the gore-filled picture that covered the bottom of the page. Her slender fingers traced it, hovering over the princess, her image frozen mid scream, "Is this…?"

Her stomach churned as her fingers left the page.

Kyla gulped loudly, putting the papers down and reaching for her cigarettes. She lit one up, inhaling the nicotine before turning her attention back to the so-called 'fairytale'.

"_The princess ran as fast as she could back to the castle, which was miles upon miles away. But her way was blocked by the keeper of the flames, the Ash-man._"

The monster on the page seemed vaguely human, though his face held no features except a mouth that nearly split his head, and flacks of some gray substance fell from his lumpy body. It had grabbed her arms, the places it's fingers pressed an angry crimson. The look on her face was one of pain and terror, and something else, something almost reverent…

"_Struggle though she might the princess wasn't able to get away. It was much later, after the moon had turned to day many times, that knights of the castle found her, hung from the limb of a tree that stretched out over a field white that stained the hand to touch and offended the nose to breath._

_The color drained from her skin and embers in her hair, she had finally found her hearts desire, the embrace of the Ash-white Prince._

_The End._"

The confused girl stared at the fairytale, flabbergasted that something intended for a small child could be so… sadistic. Numbly, she was aware of the cigarette she had lit falling from her lips, the cancer stick spraying ash every which way as it hit the floor in its death throws and rolled away toward the drapes.

She was half expecting, half praying the page would change to something a little bit happier if she stared long enough. However, Kyla knew good and well that this town… this place was anything but happy.

"What are you doing?!" A masculine voice bellowed from behind her.

As she turned there was a crisp clicking sound and Kyla found her face level with the barrel of a gun, the dark bore starring back at he menacingly as the pages fell from her fingers.

"What are you doing in my apartment?" Kyla opened her mouth to speak but nothing came out. He looked at the papers littering the floor and let out an indignant scream that made her want to cover her ears but she couldn't seem to move.

"My book!" he stooped, the gun, a rifle she could see now waving around erratically but no longer trained on her as he looked through the papers, "You found my book!"

"That's… _yours_?" Kyla asked, astonished. The smile on his face… Kyla wished he would take it off somehow…

Short for a man, and stocky, a barrel of muscle for a torso set comically over a protruding stomach his salt and pepper hair was cut short and neat to match his shirt and creased pants.

"You found my book!" he was ecstatic, dancing around like a small child reunited with a lost and much beloved toy.

Backing away slowly, Kyla's nose wrinkled as a faint whiff of something drifted by faster than she could make out what it was.

Abruptly he froze mid capper, twirling on her so fast she fear he was going to unload a round into her face and leave her for dead in a fit of madness.

"What's that smell!" he screeched so loud it hurt her ears and the brunette could only stare at him dumbly as his eyes darted around the room quickly, bulging as he panted.

"What is it?!" he screamed, somehow even louder than before, whirling this way and that as if invisible enemies stalked his shadows.

It was then the smell finally caught up to her, the scent of smoke.

Head spinning she saw it, one of the drapes was smoldering, increasingly thick reams of smoke belching out from under it and drifting to the ceiling.

"You! It's your fault!" her visitor suddenly declared and she ducked, expecting him to fire, but the only sound was the sound of his gun clattering to the floor and his heavy footfalls as he ran for the door.

Kyla's mind made the connections. There was going to be a fire in this room very soon, and from the accusing tone in his voice, this man didn't plan to let her leave with him when he escaped.

Even as she ran she knew it was too late, but that didn't stop her wailing on the door with her small hands as it closed behind him, the sound of a key being turned and a latch sliding into place freezing her heart in her chest.

"Hey! Let me out!"

"No, it's your fault!" he answered, voice muffled by the door but still loud.

Behind her the smoke had turned a deep black, prowling around the ceiling like a caged panther.

"What is?!" she screamed back, panicked, the drapes had begun to glow a dull red/orange.

"First you helped those kids steal my book! I know you did… and now…now", the apartments ancient fire alarm wailed to life, screaming and blaring in a crescendo pitch, up and down, up and down, "Now you've woken him up!"

"Who?!" she asked, trembling as the smoke started to find its way into her lungs causing her to hack.

Her only answer was a voiceless growl that she knew far to well. Kyla screamed for all she was worth and backpedaled quickly as the door rattled on its hinges, white smoke pouring under the door into the room.

Had she looked behind herself, she might have noticed the way the drape ballooned outward, as if someone were struggling to find a way out from behind it.

Backing further away from the door as another menacing growl echoed forth, Kyla suddenly found her arms pinned to her sides in a vice like grip, the skin beneath the fingers that held her reddening and spears of lancing pain running over the skin as it dried and cracked.

To scared to even scream, Kyla's head turned mechanically, and her captor smiled at her with a gaping maw that spat embers around black and crooked teeth, his featureless gray skin falling from his bones in dry flakes.

"._.e… id….ky_", the monster slurred, digging its fingers in tighter, burning her skinny biceps.

Paralyzed with terror, she could only play the last words the man who's shut her in here had spoken.

_You woke him up!_

And she had, she'd woken him, the keeper of the flames.

"_be…afraid…ky"_

The Ash-man.


	8. Ashes and Ghost

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Silent Hill. Silent Hill © belongs to, and will forever belong to, Konami. This is non-profit only. I only own the characters in this story.

**Author's Notes: **Special thanks to my best friend in the whole wide world, **Neo**, for helping me create, making me understand, and giving me the knowledge to get this story up and running. Thanks!

**Rating: **M for violence, sexual themes, language

**Summary: **For months, she wanted to know the truth about her brother's sudden disappearance. But to find the truths, she seeks she must unravel the lies she's created.

_**IMPORTANT:**_** I have decided to give ****Alchemia Hospital my own look and feel. Most of the inspiration from this chapter (and the next one) belongs to Apoka's flash 'game', "The Hospital". **

The Truth That Lies

_Chapter Seven: Ashes and Ghost_

Kyla couldn't stop the pain flowing through her body. The Ash-man had a strong grip on her, burning the flesh on her small biceps.

'_Be… afraid… Ky_,' the figure had said to her seconds ago. She had to admit: she was afraid. Hell, that was the understatement of the lifetime.

_Burning, things are burning,_ she thought frantically, twisting this way and that only seeming to amuse the creature as it rumbled something that was part shriek, part laugh at her.

It seemed in no hurry to do anything but hold her, unconcerned by the flames that had already consumed the drape it had emerged from, the very same that were lapping over its shoulders and singing her hair.

Sweat began beading on her forehead, dribbling down and stinging her wide and panicked eyes with salty kisses while the Ash-man let loose another shrill peel of mirth.

She went to reach for the gun that was loosely tucked in her jeans, but her hand went too far and knocked the revolver to the floor. Thrashing and squirming to get free, Kyla felt a sharp pain as her toes connected with the hard steel of the revolver, her only weapon skittering away under the unintended force of her blow.

Her eyes went wide as she saw it glide into the fire gracefully.

There had to be someway to get away from this thing she thought wincing and croaking out a dry throated sob as her charred skin blistered and wept the last of its moisture over flaking fingers.

She remembered the man who locked her in the room – he dropped his rifle.

Kyla needed it.

The brunette jerked, pulled, and even tried to push the monster away from her but still nothing. It screamed, seemingly angered by her renewed attempts to leave its embrace, and showering the back of her neck painfully with tiny embers as it did so. The smell of the monster was overwhelmingly disgusting – charred muscle and sinew beneath a thick smoky tang that clogged the back of her nostrils with soot.

The aroma rising from the Ash-man was getting to Kyla. It was one she had smelt before a part of her realized. It reminded her of her parents…

The burning flesh, muscle, hair, eyes turned to a pale jelly by the heat…

Angry, Kyla flung herself towards the wall. Unaffected by the flames or the remains of the smoldering drapes the Ash-man screamed, as though the touch of the rough wall on it's burnt flesh was the most terrible of agonies.

It let go of her and she pushed herself back a fair distance from the monster.

Oh God, oh God, oh God… free now, she had a full view of the monster as it thrashed about at the wall in torment, great raw patches of its dusty gray flesh peeled away with each strike, exposing what lay beneath.

The scared woman looked from corner to corner, searching desperately for the fallen rifle. The smoke that filled what the fire did not clambered for her eyes, trying to blind her with her own tears now it could reach low enough.

Stooping, she glanced to where she left the monster – it was getting up, burning the wood beneath its feet.

She coughed and gagged, wondering as her vision started to haze, if perhaps the rifle had burned already, it had been old, a lot of wood used in its design…

Then she saw it.

The butt of the rifle was showing underneath the last of the drapes, already aflame, the fire creeping closer to her only weapon.

Kyla didn't have time to contemplate; she ran towards it, burning herself in the process as a lick of yellow lashed out at her. She didn't care. It was either that or die.

Pulse thumping in her ears and fire alarm still blaring over the roar of the flames, she wedged the stock against her shoulder and gripped the barrel clumsily screaming as the heated metal retaliated.

Across from her the Ash-man had its feet again, its shrieking laugh full of something very much like betrayal as it seemed to stare at her new weapon with undisguised hate.

A moment passed like this, neither woman nor monster moving. Then with one final cry it ran for her, an uncoordinated flailing of limbs.

She fired.

Once, just once, the old bolt action on the rifle snapping into place, waiting to be reset but Kyla just stared at her handiwork numbly.

Whether by luck or native skill, her first and last shot had clipped its neck, the high caliber round ripping its head from its shoulders to land with a minor explosion of ash on the floor behind it. Its body, carried by momentum, slumped to the floor, a minor eruption of gore oozing from the stump of its neck as it twitched unnaturally before drawing still.

"It…I…I didn't…", she found herself babbling quietly, the smoking gun in her hands silent as to its opinion about what had just transpired.

_Killed it… I… killed it_

Kyla could feel the fire drawing nearer. She didn't have much time.

There was window to her left, only partially boarded up she could see now the drapes had burned away. She needed to get to it quickly or she'd burn along with the apartment. Debris started falling from the ceiling in a loud crash. Kyla would be crushed if neither the smoke or the fire got her first.

A quick investigation showed she wasn't very high, though the mist made the exact distance uncertain at best and the fire at her heels didn't give much time for consideration.

Her hands fumbled along the base of the window, by the sill but there wasn't any catch and no place to find leverage.

Raking one hand through sweat, smoke and grease logged hair she turned back for a moment, cringing as a rush of flame swallowed the sight of the door on the other side of the room.

"Only one floor…" she muttered, gazing back out the window, unsure who she was trying to convince or of what.

Raising the butt of her rifle before she really knew what she was doing, Kyla brought it down with all the strength she could muster, flinching back as the glass splintered and cracked but held.

The smoke was too thick to see through now as she turned her head and she knew that soon it would cut off her air, leaving her unconscious when the flames consumed her body.

Steeling her courage, the brown haired girl took a few short steps back, and with a prayer to whatever might be listening and feel merciful that day, she charged, arms crossed before her as her feet left the floor.

She felt glass, and for a longer, terrible moment, feared the clear pane would hold and bounce her back, but her earlier blow had done the trick and she crashed through with an almost musical cacophony.

As she fell, the street and the mist looming bellow and a tongue of orange and yellow following her into the cold midday air that lashed viscously at her raw nerves, Kyla felt a strange peace fall over her.

Sailing away from certain death into the uncertain concrete embrace below, the only sound was the distant wail of the fire alarm, a mournfully haunting call bidding her farewell…

Then there was pain and darkness.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxx

Kyla woke abruptly with a sharp intake of air, frantic eyes searching the nothingness that clouded her vision– dark and lonely, she could only tell that she lay on something soft and padded. Feeling around her in the darkness, only waves of feathery foam concealed beneath cotton met her questing fingers.

It was everywhere she realized with a start. The floor, the walls, even the ceiling she found when she could finally stand, all of it seamless softness in an ocean of black.

Her head was pounding, as though she had a wild night at a bar. Stomach churning as the sudden aroma of rotten flesh surrounded her nose, she heaved over and unloaded her stomach contents onto – what seemed like – a non existent floor.

She couldn't remember the last time she threw up. It might have been days, weeks, or even years ago. Time seemed lost to her.

"Kyla…" She heard a voice call from not far away. Kyla jumped, holding her hand to her face protectively as a thin bar of light appeared near the floor, marking that narrow wall as a door of some sort. Her arms she noted hurt, but only a little, and in the dim light suddenly afforded her she could see someone had bandaged them and applied something for the burns.

She stared at the door, the small light slipping beneath the crack at the bottom bouncing and shifting around… just like a flashlight…

_My flashlight!_ She reached for her breast pocket.

The flashlight wasn't there, but her fingers grasped a piece of paper. She grabbed it, noting it was neatly folded, and stuffed it in her tight pants pocket.

She heard a moan.

Her eyes shot to the door, staring at the light illuminating through the bottom. Whatever was behind that door had her flashlight.

The hairs on her neck stuck straight up as her name was called again.

"_Kyla…_" She shivered, a cold breeze suddenly surrounding her already cold body. "_Let me in…_" Kyla recognized the voice.

It was Chris.

"Chris!" She yelled, running to the door. "Chris, open the door! I can't do it from this side!"

She heard a loud echo as something fell roughly to the ground.

"Chris?"

There was no answer.

Complete silence – something she had gotten used to over the past few days, or however long she had been there… Kyla didn't know.

She heard footsteps echoing through the now empty corridor. However, the door opened. The flashlight lay on the ground, still rocking gently back and forth as if it had been dropped in a hurry. The strobe light illuminated the dull finish of the rifle she had used to defend herself against the Ash-man where it stood propped innocently against the wall.

Kyla blinked, trying to adjust her eyes to the gloom that lingered around the edges of the light.

"Chris…? Chris, are you there?", her voice was tiny in this tomb like passage, with its stagnant air and solitary silence.

Somewhere in the darkness, a door squealed on rusty hinges and Kyla shrank back into the comfort of the cell for a moment. When no further noises echoed along the corridor to her, the cautious brunette stole forth and scooped up the flashlight, shining it up and down the hall quickly, seeing only endless doors and grime.

Something whispered in the dark as she crawled forward a little further over the cold, damp floor, something indefinable sloshing over and between her fingers. She paused, and then, hearing nothing, moved again the noise repeating itself, the sound of paper rustling against fabric.

Kyla grabbed the note from her pocket and read it aloud quickly.

"_In Mens Rae Veritas…_", her brow rose, "This… looks familiar."

She remembered the man in the motel office and the book he was reading. That was on the cover. However, she didn't know what it meant.

Confused and frustrated, a strange tension gripped her, making it seem as if someone had pinched the skin behind her temples and was slowly pulling it backward, forcing her to frown lest her face be ripped away.

As she made her way to her feet and looked around, something about the design of this place struck her. The 'neat', uniform corridors with evenly spaced doors, some single, others double, the imaginatively challenged color scheme; once white walls with a strip of what might have been a deep blue…

Dull plastic cocooned the floors, filthy now, but easy enough to clean in theory…

"_Kyyyyyla…_" she heard someone call from far away.

At first, she had thought that the town was a 'ghost town' – a place where no one existed; not really, not in the sense that they exist in a city, a place you know of, full of people that exist in the minds of thousands upon thousands of others who have heard its name.

In such a place loneliness is such an abstract fear, for even in the quiet of your own home you were aware of the fact that others exist out there, have to, because it's a city, it's known, it's how they work.

Kyla staggered a little, suddenly feeling light-headed, the stench of chlorine and disinfectant clouding her senses.

Fear meant nothing in this town. This unknown place, this blank spot on the map of reality. The rules were different here, in this Otherworld.

"_Don't be afraid Ky…_"

And yet, this place, this numbness… was all so familiar.

Walking on leaden legs, Kyla stumbled onward. It was time to leave fear behind, and discover what had called her here.


	9. The Darkness That Lurks In Our Mind

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Silent Hill. Silent Hill © belongs to, and will forever belong to, Konami. This is non-profit only. I only own the characters in this story.

**Author's Notes: **Special thanks to my best friend in the whole wide world, Neo aka betweenheavenandhell, for helping me create, making me understand, and giving me the knowledge to get this story up and running. Thanks!

**Editor's Notes:** I don't usually add anything here, but this time I thought I would. The following includes a scene I mocked up for the author, including a cryptic reference to something in another chapter. See if you can find it. Oh and review, it keeps her happy.

**And he speaks! This might be the last post for a while. I'm currently dealing with a severe eye infection and being on the computer writing isn't really helping any. Plus, I have a significant other who needs attention… (Giggle).**

**Special thanks to my editor. I appreciate how he turned this chapter around for me. He practically wrote the chapter himself. Kudos, bro.**

The Truth That Lies

_Chapter Eight: The Darkness That Lurks In Our Mind_

Detective Ashley Wilson ended up falling asleep on the couch that night instead of tucked away in her nice, warm bed. The insomnia she suffered recently had taken a major toll on her as soon as she stepped into the apartment. A wave of frustrated lethargy washing over the sleep deprived shores of her mind without breaking the banks.

She tossed her briefcase messily on her desk, knocking over a few letters to her friends back in Tennessee, where she had studied law before deciding she could do more good with a badge than a briefcase. The one she currently owned not withstanding of course.

Somewhere between her bedroom and the living room a voice seemed to have whispered that it was such a long trek, and she was so tired, that no one could begrudge her a small pit-stop via the couch. And the REM-less detective had dropped her eyes and snuggled into the scratchy warmth of the poorly upholstered three-piece. All the while thinking that it had been a horrible purchase, but lulled into acceptance by the memory of a small happy voice telling her it was like sleeping on a big overstuffed teddy bear…

She jolted awake what might have been seconds or hours later, all signs of sleep whistling away with angry shouts back to the corners of her mind as cop trained instinct flooded her brain. Cortisol and adrenaline giving her sleeping mind a kick in the behind.

Knock. Knock.

Wilson rubbed her tired eyes and stood, placing her hands on her hips and stretching. Her back popped in random places from the uncomfortable repose she had gotten, even as she scanned the clock on the wall and mentally ran up a list of those she knew who'd likely call at this hour.

"Hold on a second!" the auburn haired detective called, folding the blanket neatly and placing it back on the couch, delaying the inevitable interaction with another human being until she was sure she was actually awake.

Wilson straightened her white blouse and black slacks, heading towards the door.

Rodriguez had the case files under his arm with two paper bags in both hands, though the hour and a subtle clenching from her stomach as the smell of the bag's contents wafted up to her put them at the top of her list of current interests.

"Chinese?" he asked, his five star grin lighting the semi-dim room. That and the food taking some of the edge off having her limited sleep interrupted.

Taking the two bags from him least he drop their dinner in the middle of the hallway, she ushered him in.

"What have you found out about the case?" she asked, getting straight to the point as he put his files on the coffee table on the other side of the room.

"We'll talk about it after dinner", he answered, the set of his face as his eyes slid across to the files on the table unconsciously saying… something, but she was too tired and hungry to chase that at the moment.

"It's late and I'm starving," he added as if reading her mind, and his friendly smirk told her that she'd expressed that thought somehow as well.

Nodding, Wilson took out some plates for their late night meal, and arranged the food on crockery that showed signs of needing to be replaced. The floral patterns on the rims of the plates had lost their luster years ago.

They ate their meal in silence until Wilson broke it.

"McLean asked me to come to her office today," she interjected neutrally.

Rodriguez looked at her and raised a brow.

"What did she say?"

"If we don't solve this case with a happy ending I'm fired…" her voice hitched a little at the word 'fired', ruining the 'angry cop just doing their job' delivery she'd been aiming for. Not that it would have fooled Benny much, but still.

"_Me cago en diez_ on that shit", he spat, glowering darkly at nothing in particular, you're one of the best detectives in CPD that I know."

"Always nice to have a fan Benny. But she had a point, I need to solve this one," she started carefully, folding her hands beneath her chin and looking up at him, "but if I find them dead, it'll be my badge."

She frowned at the mess she'd previously made of her half eaten meal.

The Mongolian rice was mixed around with some type of breaded shrimp in a dull mess that was stained a bland color by the sauce, making the parts seem an featureless whole.

"I'm not hungry," she said, standing up from her chair and pacing a little, "Can we talk about the case so I can get some sleep?"

"Sure…" he said when a look of mock sadness directed at his unfinished meal failed to get even a small smile, and followed her to the desk.

"Well…" he started, flipping open the top file, "Pretty nasty stuff. Kid's parents died in a house fire 'of suspicious nature' the local CSI ruled, but the DA at the time said there wasn't enough reason to open a full investigation at the time, and certain… other factors, made it a tad tricky at best."

Wilson listened closely as he flipped to a new page, something tagged in with paperclips, her eyes widening slightly as he recited what he'd found with an uneasy look in his eye.

"And eventually she ended up living independent of the foster system under a Guardian…" there was a telling pause as he dropped the first file, the manila folder crashing to the table in the pregnant silence that followed as he opened the next.

"…Chris?" she breathed.

"Like I said, pretty _loco_ shit right?" Benny cracked weakly.

"Yeah… but at least we know where to start."

**Xxxxxxxxxxxx**

Silence.

Like everywhere else the atmosphere of the hospital put out an aura of brittle tension, as if everyone were collectively holding their breath in the shadows alongside the monsters, waiting to see who broke first in a lethal game of cat and mouse.

_Peek-a-boo Kyla_.

It was dark, sinister looking, foul, and how quiet it was once she left that room, the padded cell she'd awoken in with her wounds dressed.

The one that had vanished as soon as she had closed the door, only featureless, seamless wall replacing it, not even an etching in the grim and mildew to let her know she wasn't mad, that there really were concealed hinges and an opening.

The only noise to her was the sound of her own breath and her footsteps, sloshing in the murky liquid that left the linoleum floors slick and dangerous. She didn't know exactly what freaked her out the most: the quiet or the delayed echo of her footsteps, pattering softly to a close every time she stopped as if her shadow where sneaking along behind her.

"_I have to leave now or I might end up dead…_", the violent thought suddenly intruded, her eyes darting about fearfully for a moment as if she'd spoken it aloud and broken the unspoken rules.

Her body was perspiring in a near feverish neat even though the 'water' on the floor felt cold, soothing if somewhat slimy through her boots. Doffing her acquired jacket and throwing it on the floor haphazardly, she started to walk faster down the corridor.

The frightened woman didn't know where she was, or how she had gotten to this place. The markings on the doors and the layout showed it was a hospital, but why would someone bring her to a place so obviously long abandoned for treatment. She was lucky her burns hadn't been infected; at least the cell had been clean.

One thing she had always hated was hospitals, clean or otherwise. She couldn't stand them - the smell, sterile and unnatural, stripped of the normal comforting smells, like the electric tang of a rain storm, and the dull whir of air conditioners balancing the air in perfect artificial homeostasis. The nicely smiling secretaries, with their immaculate grins, nurses that loomed behind closed curtains carrying clipboards full of secrets...

"This is insane," she mumbled out loud, forcing her thoughts back on track as a new door reared up in the pale glow of her flashlight.

A crimson handprint was smeared down the frame that enclosed the small glass circle that allowed one to look through into what lay beyond. Five faint grooves set above the handprint showed that the blood had come from split nails as someone had tried to reach the porthole window before they had been dragged to the floor, only a dark stain of the plastic indicating what had happened after that.

What was going on? Why was that room so important, and why had it cost someone their life when they tried to enter?

The faint lettering on the plaque next to the door read "Burn Ward" and the brunette felt herself gripped by a powerful convulsion, her teeth chattering as if she'd been dunked in ice water for her fever.

It passed in seconds, and when it did she found she had gripped the door for support, her check pressed against the cool glass as something chattered childishly from the corners of her perception.

This room… this room was important, it held the answer. Kyla was suddenly certain of this.

She turned the handle and pushed the door. It's latch rattled in the catch but it didn't budge and Kyla's brow rose in confusion. Was something pushing against the other side?

Looking through the dirty glass and towards the bottom of the door there was a board pushed against it, wedged most likely under the handle. It was squat and wooden, covered in flaked black paint, the kind designed to allow chalk to be applied and wiped, the kind used by bars to advertise their latest deals and theme nights.

"Well that explains it…" she whispered, her gaze traveling upward.

Traveling aimlessly as she had around this strange place she hadn't encountered any door except this one that was barred, and none she had more desire to go through.

As her eyes narrowed, the overhead light in the Burn Ward suddenly snapped on. Spluttering to life the old fashioned hanging lampshade swayed from side to side, the pull cord that activated it lashing back and forth lazily.

The room wasn't very large, just big enough to fit three beds, one on each wall, one to her left and right, and one directly opposite her little window. A heavy looking sheet of plastic curtained off each bed. The opaque material warding them from outsiders casting everything behind them as fuzzy shadows.

Left the light swung, illuminating a tall and angular shadow that jerked and spasmed where it stood at the foot of its bed, thrashing against invisible restraints that bound it's wrists behind it to the bed so powerfully it seemed as if it might dislocate its shoulders.

Right and there was another, this one smaller, bent double over the high-ended guardrail at the foot of its bed, head almost touching the floor as it jerked from side to side erratically, this one's arms bound to the legs of the cot.

However it was the briefly illuminated center bed that held Kyla's breathless attention.

Standing stock still, was a tall, broad shouldered shadow, and though she couldn't see the face behind the curtain, she knew that the featureless silhouette was starring right back at her with a kind of passive interest.

The light passed again, casting all in shadow, and as it swung back for a moment she was sure the center figure changed, seeming smaller, much smaller, almost childlike, both hands held to its face in a silent scream as she stood entranced by this macabre puppet show.

Flicker, and the figure was back, but this time, it held one hand up against the plastic as if to say, "Hello Kyla, I see you". And drawn by some irresistible urge despite the vomit inducing fear wailing in her ear, the brunette felt her own hand mirror the gesture against the window.

"Who are you?", she hissed, suddenly needing to know the answer more than she'd ever needed anything in her life but her shadow friend only stood there, hand raised in paralyzed greeting while the others screeched muted agony.

As abruptly as it had come on, the light in the room snapped off.

"… No…NO!", Kyla screamed, furious as she beat her hands against the murky glass, "Turn it back on! Turn that fucking light back on right now!"

Dimly it registered she had no idea why she was so angry, just as it occurred to her she didn't know why she was shouting in a place that oozed danger, but she did, she was.

"Turn it onnnNNNN! Do you hear me!" she wailed until her throat turned raw and her brain boiled in a fiery soup that took her legs from under her, forcing her to lie against the far wall, cool filth seeping through the fabric of her jeans.

As she panted, consciousness threatening to swim away from her, she felt it. The sense that something, something with a cold and calculatingly patient lizard stare was watching.

Gazing weakly around her hand clutched feebly at the rifle she'd brought with her, her blurry eyes coming to rest on the sign next to the door, and as she read it, her heart froze.

Inscribed in the muck above and below it, someone had written a message, using the plaque to complete a short sentence, one that read:

"sINcEREly juST _buRN ME _AlIVE"

In that instance, all over her desire to enter that room turned to fear, and a need to be away from it, far away. Standing on legs that had suddenly found new strength, Kyla clutched her weapon to her chest and ran, her boots echoing loudly down the corridor long after she was gone from sight.

It was in this new found silence that the watcher, that nameless Dread, purred, its pleasure turning to hate as the important door swung open and HE walked out, pausing to examine the writing on the wall.

Without a word HE took the words and wrote a new message, carefully peering at it and nodding in satisfaction before reducing it to a smear and turning to regard where the other had huddled.

"… Ky…"


	10. Nightmarish Waltz

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Silent Hill. Silent Hill © belongs to, and will forever belong to, Konami. This is non-profit only. I only own the characters in this story.

**Author's Notes: **If you guys get the chance, please say thank you to betweenheavenandhell for his insight and for helping me through my writer's block.

**Editor's Notes:** Review etc folks, things are nearing the start of the conclusion so your support is needed to see it through till the end.

**IMPORTANT:**

**I am sorry. I've been busy with work. I work during the week now and I just haven't been in the mood to write. However, today was my day off and my editor basically wrote this chapter himself! So don't thank me, thank him. I owe him a lot for taking a load off of me. Thanks Neo!**

The Truth That Lies

_Chapter Nine: Nightmarish Waltz Part I_

The walls loomed high as she ran, lurching from left foot to right erratically. The ceiling seemed to tower above into pitch darkness, swallowing the light from her torch.

_I'm suffocating! _she thought, collapsing onto the floor in mid-run, panicking as she felt the surface grime rise and swell like an oily tide, tugging her into it tainted embrace.

Above, an oak box speaker- once part of the hospitals broadcast system- spat to life as it swung back and forth on a single wire. Like a pendulum counting down the seconds she had left, blearing a cheery tune in distorted tones.

"_We've only just begun… To liiiiiive,"_ it crackled as dust rained down from the shadows above and the floor rumbled with invisible footfalls.

Kyla grasped at her throat, clawing at it as if that would restore her air. He was behind her – she knew it – but the pain that gripped her chest would not go away.

Smoke billowed by on seductive tendrils, whispering dark purposes.

Managing to pull herself forward against the slick surface of the floor, Kyla set her wide, terrified eyes on the only open door she could see, knowing she didn't have the strength to stand and try another.

Hot, it was getting so hot, the sweat beginning to roll down her back, over her brow, in her eyes.

Panting, she hauled herself into the tiny, dim room ahead and pulled the door shut with her foot before breaking down completely.

"What the fuck did I get myself into?!", she cried between broken sobs when no one answered, "I WANT TO GO HOME!!"

"_We've only just beguuuuun."_

Kyla jumped as something began scrabbling against her door, the sound of tiny nails on wood grating on nerves far past raw. A shiver went up her spine and yelled for it to go away.

**Tap.**

**Tap.**

**TapTapTap**

**TAPTAPTAP**

"GO AWAY!"

The handle rattle and danced a squealing metallic tune, as if whatever was trying to turn it didn't have the right appendages for such an operation.

She wanted to pass out – get the inevitable pain over with. She knew it was coming.

"Let me out, let me out, let me out," she chanted, clasping her hands to her head so hard she feared she might crush it.

Screwing green eyes shut, Kyla curled up tightly, the overpowering stench of cleaning supplies vying for dominance with the intoxicating smell of smoke as she kicked over a bottle of something in the process.

"I shouldn't have come back here," she whispered, registering dimly as the chemicals she'd spilled began to steal a lethargic blanket over her mind, that she couldn't feel the floor below her anymore.

"_We've only just beguuuuun…"_

"…What… when was I…" floating, she was floating, becoming light as air… so why could she feel herself falling?

"I don't even know anymore…" Kyla murmured as the world suddenly turned silent, "What… am I?"

Fog, all she could see behind her eyelids, was fog.

"I'm dissolving…"

As she passed out, the last thing the brunette heard was the distant sound of sirens.

XXXX

"_Chris…?" Kyla called out hands fumbling blindly in the dark as she searched for the small switch. The one that muscle memory told her was there, where it always was, but of sleeping doubts, not yet controlled by a half conscious mind, whispered uncertainty._

_Suddenly it was there, tactile relief flooding her mind as the small plastic stump was flipped upward and the world outside her window lit up with the eerie orange tint of a new dawn._

"… _How…" it had been night just then… hadn't it? What time was it… _when_ was it? The memories refused to come; yet she did recall thinking that the whole world vanished when you turned out the light, once upon a time._

"_Just a childish delusion", she muttered, staring blankly at the fog swirling around her feet, obscuring the floor, numbing her feet to the point she couldn't be certain if she was standing or flying. _

"_I'm dissolving Chris..." the brunette whispered, a dangerous smile cutting over her face for the briefest of moments before being swallowed by a more rational confusion, "Help me… It's coming apart, because of that… place"_

What place?

"_The hospital… I went there when mommy and daddy burned… and I left…something behind," Kyla's eyes darted left and right, chasing a thought that slipped away, stumbling out of her room and down the corridor._

"_I need… to find it?" she clutched her head painfully as something inside seemed to rebel against that idea, growling in unspoken words as the walls smoldered around her._

_Ahead she could just make out Chris' room, the one right at the end of the house, all alone. From it there watched two dull eyes, peering through a crack in the wood._

Don't go there Ky. Only bad things can happen.

"_I need to find it, it's lost. I thought I could leave it there but it won't let me" warm tear fell as she staggered, the numbness spreading up her legs._

… Perhaps… it's best.

_Kyla stared dumbly as the door at the end of the hall opened, just a bit, and a pale skinny arm reached out, hand outstretched for her to grasp._

Take my hand, and you'll find me… but I can't protect you from what might find _you_.

_For several trembling seconds she just stood there, unsure of or just unable to understand the choice being offered to her. _

_Hesitantly, her own slender hand reached for his as the numbness groped ever higher._

_As her grip met his, Chris' fingers suddenly locked around hers, his touch searing her own with crimson agony, charring it's way down to the bone, blasting away the numbness with rivers of fire as the ground opened to swallow her whole._

_As she fell, her brother's voice offered up one last parting phrase._

In Mens Rea Veritas

_XXXX_

Kyla hurt.

Her eyes opened slowly, the pain in her right hand trapped beneath her, ushering her to roll over – subsiding it for the time being.

With eyes that shied from the light baring down from the dusty neon fixtures above her she lay lifeless atop what felt like a small padded mattress. The kind used for camping or for…

Rotating her head stiffly to one side, Kyla could just about make out the shapes of a dozen or so iron bars that served as the wall on the opposite side of the small rectangular room she had come to in.

Their shadows stretched out over the more conventional wall beyond them, the distance from them to it suggesting a narrow corridor running perpendicular to her current locale.

Bare walls save for the little bared window set high above her reach and a small, unspeakably filthy bowl she could only guess was supposed to be graced with the title 'toilet' confirmed her gut reaction.

She was in a jail cell.

Even as she made an attempt to find an even vaguely plausible explanation as to why she was here, her mind began filling in the blanks. A cascading rain of bile, confusion, anger and terror that made her stomach heave and her hand- red with fine scars she couldn't remember possessing- ache.

"Chris…" she'd seen him, in that place… her… home? Yes the house they had all lived in before the fire. However surely that had been only a dream… hadn't it? The details were already growing fuzzy. But then what else had been a dream? Was she still in Silent Hill, had she ever really gone to that hospital, was Chris really missing?

How had she gotten from the apartments to the hospital, and then to here?

And why did those sirens sound so familiar?

"More questions… wonderful," she bit out sarcastically, grunting with the effort tit took to drag herself upright of the small cot that was her cell's only furnishing.

Apart from having no idea how she got here, things were looking up.

There was light which meant the building had power, there was no sign of the omni-present rot that had consumed that…other, place so completely, no monsters or creeping presence stalking her.

If not for her injuries she might have been tempted to write the whole thing off as some weird dream. The result of one too many after work drinks, after which she'd simply been pulled in by the cops and left in a cell to sober up.

"Yeah… if only."

As if to add insult to injury, her hopeful fantasy was further crushed by the rather clearly open and unlocked cell door.


	11. Confinement

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Silent Hill. Silent Hill © belongs to, and will forever belong to, Konami. This is non-profit only. I only own the characters in this story.

**Author's Notes: **If you guys get the chance, please say thank you to betweenheavenandhell for his insight and for helping me through my writer's block.

The Truth That Lies

Chapter Ten: Confinement

The cool stonewall was rough but soothing against her hand as Kyla walked, one hand grazing its surface, wavering absently just above the blue strip painted across it.

She'd been following this same stripe like a guiding arrow for several minutes through winding corridors that left her dizzy to contemplate. Whoever had designed the cells had either been trying to fit as many into as small a space as possible or had hoped that his layout would confuse anyone trying to escape so much they would simply give up and return to their cell.

If that was indeed his goal, he was close to succeeding she admitted to herself. Cocking her head to listen more closely to the soft ring of her boots and to be sure they were indeed the only sound. No silent growling, no thrashing... no crackling laughter.

As Kyla turned yet another corner, brightness suddenly cut across her vision. A pool of light spilled out from the doorway that terminated her endless journey. The illumination catching the lingering dust motes in the air as they danced before the hazy window at it's center.

She paused.

There was no one here to have disturbed the dust, no wind nor draft... Someone else had been through this door.

"Is anyone there…?" she whispered, voice high. No answer.

Though used to no one answering, she somehow found solace in the suggested presence of another. Of course she could only hope in her current, unarmed state that it was no one or nothing hostile -

Kyla jumped as she heard a voice yell furiously. High in pitch and crescendo it wavered erratically, warbling from one lofty octave to another. It was the kind of noise she'd only ever heard from her mother after…

_After Daddy came home drunk_, she realized with a start, the voice in her head her own and yet somehow not, somehow… amused.

Why would that be funny she found herself wondering as she moved closer, her head turning to place one ear closer to the murky glass as her hand brushed the handle of the old oak door.

Was it even true?

She couldn't remember.

"I… do it!"

The voice was muffled and unclear. It… sounded like her, as if someone had recorded her having a blazing argument with someone and was playing it back on equipment not quite up to the task.

Straining to hear she winced as a burst of static cut through the partition as if she were being scolded for snooping… and then came the other voice.

"Calm… … didn't…. …"

Kyla felt a chill. The hairs on the back of her neck stood up. The cold air nipped at her skin like a parasite – like a cancer. Just like the burn ward… this was another important door.

She felt something rub her neck, like a loved one offering a comforting caress – warm, loving. Kyla, closing her eyes, leant back into the touch, away from the glass and the secret whispers it hid, enjoying the embrace.

_That's a girl_, the voice that sounded so like her own purred quietly and she was all to willing to let it carry her away. It was deeper than she had first thought, manly almost… just like…

"-ou hav-…. … … I'm….. No!"

That's not me, K.

The touch dissipated, making her neckline cold once again, green eyes breaking open as if from a dream only to slam shut as the glass in front of her cracked. A lingering thud was the only thing that explained the distorted shades now being reflected back at her. Something heavy had been thrown at the pane, though thankfully not with much force.

Her hand pushed the door open unconsciously with a heavy scrapping sound and looked around the lightened room as two voices, too garbled to make out lopped over and over.

She couldn't understand what the voices were saying. For a moment, she had thought there were others in the building; someone other than herself – someone who would talk to her. As soon as she entered the room, however, the voices stopped, as if startled and the brunette couldn't shake that feeling of having just walked into a place that locals guarded jealously from outsiders.

Something crunched beneath her boot, letting out a squeal of static as it did and sending her heart double time around her chest.

Crushed beneath her heel lay a tape recorder, one of the old fashioned models you sometimes see on television police dramas set back when she had still been in diapers, the ones with a bulbous microphone attachment on the end.

Was this what had been causing the voices she had heard?

Something flickered at the edge of her vision, drawing her eyes up to the barred window on the other side of the room, set in a steel door above block white letters.

"Evidence Lockup: no admittance," it stated unerringly, however today it seemed someone wasn't listening.

A lone shadow lingered through the window, waving between the bars in blurry slow motion. A shadow that seemed so familiar… the one that had been gazing at her in the hospital through a curtain.

"Is that…rea-" was as far as she got before the supposedly dead device at her feet let out an abrupt, ear-popping scream that caused instinct to throw herself back against the door she had entered through and rap her head smartly against that same door.

"Son of a bitch!" she cursed, glaring at the broken recorder and back up at the window, somehow not really surprised to find it as vacant as if there had never been anyone there.

The scream was unlike anything she had heard before. A deep male yell, abruptly curtailed as if someone had finished whatever had started his pain.

"I know you're there", she whispered to the bars in a voice she'd not used since her childhood. That infamous tone used by conspiring children everywhere.

Her only reply was faint, a light rasp of breath. Someone winding down after a great excursion of effort.

Other than the evidence room, there was only one other way out of this dull gray box, another door varnished a tacky blue and marked only by a single bronze handle, lacking the catch that would identify it as anything other than a simple push door.

No sense of presence echoed back from behind it and thus her eyes were once more drawn to the heavy steel door with its lonely block white letters and foreboding iron bars.

The rasps had grown louder, buzzing back and forth through open lips; dry and cracked she was sure by now.

_I'm here, dear sister._

Turning towards the voice, Kyla was thankful that nothing here really scared her anymore. Oh she could be shocked that was true, but such a thing is hard wired into what it means to be human, to survive.

Being in Silent Hill was like reaching into a pool of icy water, covered by a thin layer of thick black oil. It scared and revolted you with its taint at first... but eventually simply left you numb.

A diseased whizzing noise scrapped between the bars ahead, grinding and sawing at the metal like a file and two shades fell upon the glass.

The young woman didn't see anyone other than two shadows, formed as if they were holding each other. One had long hair and the other had short and their limbs entwined as one, the angles of their arms suggesting at least one of them had wrenched its shoulder from its socket.

"Shouldn't have struggled so much…" she murmured with something disturbingly alike to contempt in her voice.

The shadow with the long hair peeled back its head, long strands of something sticking to the face of the other at the lips and eyebrows, tying them together by little black mucus like strings.

Kyla wrapped her hands around the bars swaying drunkenly.

"Shouldn't have…struggled," she repeated as the smaller shadow began to slam its head into the reinforced glass beyond the bars in perfect silence, leaving behind large wet prints and clumps of hair.

This close Kyla could see that the things arms weren't just wrapped around one another, they were a part of the others flesh, fused to it.

"Just a little more… almost…over" the green eyed girl breathed as the shadows reared back for one joint blow she was sure would have no more effect than the others.

Forehead stuck glass, bone crunched and filthy, rotten flesh split… and the glass Kyla had been so sure would hold, broke.


	12. Into The Depths of Self Discovery

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Silent Hill. Silent Hill © belongs to, and will forever belong to, Konami. This is non-profit only. I only own the characters in this story.

**Author's Notes: **The ending is near. About two or three more chapters and the story will come to a close. Please thank betweenheavenandhell if you guys can.

**Editor's Notes:** I must say that considering some of the enthusiastic support this fic received early on I'm dismayed by the drop off in readership as of late. Show that little button down the bottom a bit of love huh?

The Truth That Lies

_Chapter Eleven: Into The Depths Of Self Discovery_

_**Welcome, Kyla.**_

When The Shadow leaped for Kyla, her world went black. The feeling she had was unlike anything Kyla had experienced. The feeling of sorrow, sadness, guilt, and pleasure at the same time plagued her like some type of disease. She couldn't get away from it.

Kyla immediately wished she were back home. She knew this was a mistake – coming to Silent Hill. She felt chills as soon as she entered the town but she couldn't turn back and head to Chicago. Something inside of her told her to stay, something deep in her subconscious.

She tried speaking but not a sound came out. The back of her throat itched maddeningly but there was no air in her lungs to drive a cough to clear it.

This was what it was like to suffocate, to strain for just one more breath, one more chance to do something you never knew you could miss so much.

_What's wrong with me?!_

In a blink, things changed once again. She still couldn't speak, but color had returned to Kyla's monotone world, though not much. The dingy browns and grays of the main lobby in the hospital greeted her, the smell of smoke lingered on the dusty, stale air and the quiet drip of some unidentified liquid echoed from the darkness.

Yet somehow, she still didn't feel quite right. All of the sensations seemed to come from a long way away, from the other end of a long dank tunnel she had somehow crawled to the other end of.

There was yet another world overlain with this one… a world that though still not _right_ was better than this one. If she tried she could almost turn her head to see it, if she could only break the shadow's grip on her…

There was a sickening lurch and Kyla's hand flew out to steady herself, slapping roughly against a wall that fell smooth and polished. One that still had the lingering smell of fresh paint.

White blinded her as light from bright overhead bulbs danced of pure walls dazzlingly, but when she could see properly once more, the changes she found were astounding.

The room in which she now stood was clearly a part of the hospital, but it appeared as such a place should, neat and orderly, prim and proper, sterile.

_Not a hair out of place._

Well, except one thing. A dirty, tattered book that lay askew atop the largest stack of papers on an immaculate walnut desk. Filthy red cover, torn around the edges and aged yellow pages inside, pages covered in a tiny, spidery scrawl that it too Kyla some time to make out:

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

_Dissolving_

_I'm dissolving. I can feel it happening, even now, this pen, I know it's here, I can see it, but I can't make out the fingers gripping it._

_They have to be there, have to be, or else it wouldn't move… would it?_

_I can't tell, I've seen so many odd things lately, things that I know are happening, but can't be, but I see them. The wheelchair in the corner of the day room, the one that turns to follow you when you look. That god awful piercing shriek as it rotates on rusty spokes, and no one looks but me, they never speak about it…_

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

The writing style was odd, haunting and confusing in the way only a story begun somewhere in the middle can be, and there was more. Kyla felt like she knew what he was talking about, about the sense of falling apart, of dissolving.

She'd experienced it herself in that closet after all, but there was more. These plain words echoed from the page as if the speaker were curled up in the corner of the room. His only companions the whisper of his pen on the rough, cheap paper of the diary and from somewhere too near, the groaning noises of an un-serviced wheelchair.

She heard the squeal of a rusty wheel, the awful and mournful sound it made. Finding a chair and sitting down, the brunette closed her eyes against the invasive feeling of expansion that pervaded her.

Blinking over rough, dry eyes she continued to read;

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

_One of my fellows talked to me today, the first person I can ever remember doing so since I came here. He told me the chair belongs to 'Her', though who 'she' is I have no idea. He told me it's best to leave Her in peace least she remember She's not alone._

_The girl that smells like smoke._

_I'm not sure what that means, but the look of hateful fear in his eyes… it haunts me._

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Who is "Her"? Kyla mused and for an instant, had the strange feeling that somewhere, some-when, someone looked up from his scribblings in dazed confusion… before deciding it wise to turn in for the night;

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

_My new friend was discharged today… shame._

_Not that he's better, no, of course not, but that it's so foggy outside. What a miserable day to get released._

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"Fog… the fog is just the beginning," Kyla found herself verbalizing with growing unease, wishing she could warn this poor soul, but aware that if his diary was here, then he was likely already lost;

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

_The fog keeps getting thicker out there, I can't see the floor anymore, just a blurry soup hiding pitfalls the unsuspecting will never know till they tumble._

_I mentioned it to one of the orderlies and he just gave me a blank look, like he couldn't figure out who had spoken and then just ignored me…I'm dissolving._

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

So she wasn't the first person this had happened to. The fog came to town, swallowed everything in its path except a 'lucky' few and then slowly began to reveal… what exactly?

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

_The doctors came to see me. They seemed so serious, even a little angry, though why I had no idea._

_They told me that the Orderly had spoken to them about my strange behaviour, though when I asked them what they meant they got mad and warned me this type of thing would not be tolerated. Then they left._

_What did I do?_

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Kyla turned the pages swiftly, skimming over several nonsensical entries about 'hollowed men', 'wrong noises' and other illusions of the senses all described in ways that were intimately familiar.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

_The fog is getting higher, it's up to my window now, a murky beast slowly devouring this place, and as I watch the wisps it spits creeping by my window, I fear it wants to eat me too…_

_There seem to be less people here today as well, I only see a few doctors about, usually just catching the tails of their immaculate coats vanishing around a corner here and there, and of the others…_

_I'm slipping away._

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

_When I awoke this morning I was alone in a room I didn't recognize at first. It was mine yet not mine, everything in its place but somehow wrong, like I had been moved into an incomplete replica of my former quarters._

_Everything was dusty, disused and discolored, the tiles- usually hidden- exposed and damaged. Had I done this?_

_The fog covers my window now, I can't see anything, I feel suffocated, I want out but I'm too scared to open the door. I smelled Her out there._

_Where there always bars on my window?_

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Kyla looked up, looking out the window. There were no bars present, but an endless sea of Fog lapsed by in rhythmic tides, the occasional strands pressing against the glass like questing fingers. Even peering it was impossible to see past the bushes next to the building.

The entries in the journal didn't match up to what she was seeing, but that didn't make them any less valid. She had seen many worlds since coming to town, and how many more might lie beyond her understanding? What terrors not her own?

Carefully, almost respectively replacing the journal back perfectly, green eyes returned to the mists outside.

The fog was just the beginning, the very real transitional mists between our reality and something darker, more twisted, more personal. It was a doorway to a place mankind spent all of its existence trying to escape.

"I sound mad," she grinned, voicing her thoughts to the fog, struck by how easily she could accept that statement, "At least I'm in the right… place."

Again that feeling of rightness echoed back from the fog's impassive gaze.

It can't be. I was…

She stopped herself momentarily.

"Here before…?"

Taking up the journal again, Kyla turned to the final page, to the last words, written now in crisp, shape, painful strokes;

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

_**It's not real It's no treAl It'snotreAlIt'snotreAlIt'snotreAlIt'snotreAlIT'SREALIT'SREAL!!!!!!!**_

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"IT'S NOT REAL!!! IT'S REAL!"

The voice screamed off the page, and there was noting metaphysical about it this time, her ears assured her of that.

In the corner of the room, a man huddled into himself, discolored gray hospital pajamas smeared in layers of blood and filth, salt and pepper hair wild and unkempt, his hands were spread over his face, allowing only one blue eye to peer out at her with naked terror.

"NOT REAL!" he wailed, "CHANGE YOUR HAIR, CHANGE YOUR FACE I KNOW IT'S YOU! WHY DO YOU WANT ME?"

"I... I don't know who."

"LEAVE ME ALONE!" he screamed curling tighter as the lights overhead flickered, "I HATE YOU! JUST LIKE I HATED HIM, I ADMIT IT!!!"

Kyla recoiled at the look of utter desolation and fury directed at her, almost missing what he said next.

"It made me empty inside, so please…let me go…"

What happened next, Kyla's mind couldn't understand. One minute her sudden intruder was weeping quietly on the floor, the next the lights went out and something heavy shuck the floor with a meaty crunch that screamed wet agony and splattered her face with fine drops of some unnamed substance.

Gravity reversed and the darkness rippled as she distinctly got the sense of being tugged forward, like everything, her included was being sucked forward to fill a sudden void.

When sense returned, where the man had been was a hole… a rough gouge in the wall that spread out over the floor, taking with it part of the desk… and the journal.

The hole slopped down away from the office, rough walls suggesting something had dug its way up and taken a final massive bite to breach the wall. Huge jaws that must have swallowed the strange man -"_The patient"_ she corrected- whole.

Above the ugly gash, Kyla could make out the words "Her Sins brought me here, but mine ate me… now there's nothing but a **hOle** here", etched into the concrete itself in freakish epithet.

Stepping over, Kyla felt curiously unconcerned. The beast that had devoured tat poor soul alive had been his monster to face and somehow she knew, it wouldn't, or perhaps, couldn't hurt her.

A cool wind whistled up to her from down below, though she was sure that this wall should have led onto a corridor, not solid stone.

Dismissing such thoughts as useless now, the brunette took another step… and slipped, striking the slick ground of the tunnel hard enough to knock her wind from her and sliding without a cry or a start into the unknown beyond.

The next person to visit this room, would find only the words "There was a hole here" scratched in precise, feminine hand into the base of the wall.

But by then, that would be the least of their concerns.


	13. Fever Chill

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Silent Hill. Silent Hill © belongs to, and will forever belong to, Konami. This is non-profit only. I only own the characters in this story.

**_Author's Notes: _** _Well, the story is almost ending. I know I said that before but there's still some loose ends that my editor and I have to clear up. It might take 5 or so more chapters so the story does not feel too rushed. Thank you._

_**Editor's Notes:**__ I've included a brief summary on Silent Hill from the layman's perspective to be used in the dialogue; it indirectly references events and or endings from all the games including Homecoming (though I embellish that a tad), just a warning for those who haven't played it yet._

The Truth That Lies

_Chapter Twelve: Fever Chill_

The silence in Detective Ashley Wilson's office was uncanny. The cold, morning air nipped at her skin as she tried to keep herself warm. The weather had been very chilly as of late, Chicago had hit an all time low in temperature and people were starting to get afraid. The sudden drop to the below degrees was making people wary about venturing outside. Even the heaters in the police station couldn't seem to keep the building warm. Wilson didn't know what to do anymore.

The door opened, revealing Rodriguez, whose face was red despite his complexion.

"You're late, again…" Wilson said, looking through the papers with gloved hands, pausing occasionally to peer irritably at her partner, "Why are you always late?"

"My powers out at the apartment. The weather killed our boiler and the circuits…" Rodriguez tried to explain as he sat down at his desk adjacent to Wilson's.

"And all the other times?"

He didn't answer, just gave an exasperated 'back off _chica_' kind of look and glared sullenly over the mounting paper piles before them.

"So what have we found out?" he asked through a shaky voice, grimacing as a lingering tremor, a gift from the current climate, tore through him.

"Well…" Wilson started, staring at her notes. "After all our work we have found precisely... squat about any living male relatives in the Donavan line... I triple checked county records to be sure."

"But the name 'Christopher' does check out; he was caring for her... perhaps, you know, it's been a long time since... that, and the kid wasn't exactly 'healthy'. Maybe it's like adoption... after a while blood gives way to family and that's all that counts," Rodriguez stated, grabbing the case file from her desk and opening it to the police report.

"... Maybe, but that just... I don't know. Never mind," Wilson excused, standing up and grabbing her coffee.

"Another 'instinct' _chica_?"

"I suppose..." Wilson stared at the door and smiled and turned back to her partner, "want some Starbucks?"

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"So what have you found out, Wilson?" Chief McLean inquired, looking out the window and into the cloudy morning sky of her office. Snow whipped by in heavy flurries, blurring out anything over seven feet away like a heavy crystalline fog.

"That this station was never built with cold snaps in mind," Ashley replied following her chief's gaze and probable line of thought.

"Knew there was a reason we gave you a badge," McLean replied, smiling at the other woman over her shoulder as her mouth worked slowly, uncertainly, "Yes, I do joke sometimes detective, just don't get used to it."

"Yes ma'am," Kyla replied on auto.

"Now, back to business. What have you found out about the missing persons case?" McLean's body was leaning against the frozen windowpane.

"Well there is no brother," she paused waiting for the slight upturn of her superiors eyebrow that would indicate she had her attention, "At least, not in the traditional sense. There's a guardian listed by social. Detective Rodriguez and I are going to check on him. There's been no answer to phone enquiries so it may well be that her 'brother' really is missing."

"Hmm, always a pain in the ass when civvies don't bother to let us know the full facts," McLean grumbled, rubbing her eyes with her thumb and her index finger.

"Yes, ma'am…"

"Is there some reason you're still here Wilson? You finally have a lead, get on it already," the waspish woman barked, though her pose had subtle hints of curiosity, waiting for her subordinate to get whatever was still on her chest out into the open.

"Yes ma'am, it's just… I think things are only going to get more complicated from here", the auburn haired woman dropped her gaze away from the others and stared out into the winter dreamscape that had so fascinated her chief only moments prior.

"Why?"

"The guardian, Chris, is a cop", she shivered, some instinct warning her she had taken her first step onto dangerous ground.

"Records man actually, cold case."

"…I see, and what did he do to piss someone off enough to get shunted to that dead end assignment?" McLean inquired dryly.

"Adopted a relative who local PD wanted to hold for questioning and whisked her away… right out of a psych ward," Wilson nodded absently as her superior whistled low.

"Turns out their chief has a some clout over here, his brother is our DA or some such, got good ole Chris reassigned for preventing him from tracking down the first- as far as he was concerned- clear lead on a public tragedy in a town full of them," at this point McLean held up a hand to forestall her.

"Wait, what do you mean, whose precinct are we referring to here?"

"Sorry ma'am, thought I'd mentioned it," Wilson apologized unable to shake the feeling that no, she'd done no such thing, something had and still was, trying to stop her completing this report. Something that danced in-between the snow flakes outside, something with a staring dead eye.

"Silent Hill PD," she said in a rush as though she'd been gut punched.

"Never heard of the place."

"I know the feeling ma'am, but that sleepy little resort town is infamous in a very hush-hush kind of way. There was a large fire a few years back, killed plenty of people, including one of the town bigwigs' daughter. The woman in question later vanished along with several others and the officer on duty from a neighboring town in the middle of a vice investigation into some designer drug called…" Wilson pursed her lips as she struggled to recall the name, "White Claudia… Little while after that a man by the name of Sunderland got found taking in the sights from ten foot under Toluca. Brought the little woman along for the trip too, though it seems autopsy reckons she was dead before he drove their car into the lake."

"'nother few years pass and a copycat killer turns up in Ashfield to the south of the town, seems he read the local news bout a serial killer they had in Silent Hill a decade or so ago- killed himself in jail with a fuckin' spoon- and wanted some of the action."

McLean made motion that she had heard enough to get the point but Ashley couldn't seem to stop.

"Then a war vet in Shepards Glen, another neighboring town, snaps and drowns his little brother. They found him in the woods outside Silent Hill screaming…"

"I see the pattern you're spinning here detective… no wonder the boys over there didn't want to let a lead slip… Where is Chris now?" she asked keenly

"I'm hoping laid up at his apartment with the flu. I called down to Cold Case, they say they haven't heard from him in days, not since he suddenly applied for vacation time," Ashley bit her lip.

"And no one noticed he hadn't come back?" McLean asked angrily, the threat of disciplinary measures I her eyes.

"No ma'am, he was the only one on call down there, could be days would go by without anyone having to drop off a case load. Even when they did, apparently he spent a lot of time indexing and such amongst the stacks so you'd be lucky to see him. And if you did you'd never notice him till he was standing on your foot…"

McLean had been the chief for years and the idea that she still knew so little about those under her command had clearly shocked her to the core.

"… You say you and Rodriguez are going to visit this Chris directly?"

"Yes ma'am," Ashley replied sensing that this little update session was drawing to a close.

"Good…" she replied absently, her gaze drifting back out amongst the slowing flurries once more but Ashley couldn't bring herself to look again, and risk seeing that dead eye hiding out there.

"Snow's letting up… you'd better go."

"I… yes ma'am."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Wilson leant against the icy wall of the encircled station and took a drag from her half burnt out cigarette.

She was hoping to get this case solved before McLean took her badge. Rodriguez was out back grabbing the car while she tried to let the cigarette floss her brain with its wonderful and cancerous nicotine before he arrived; perhaps clear a few of the cobwebs up there.

The air was crisp and Wilson did not like it. She couldn't see more than ten feet in front of her. Her auburn hair was tucked under her little black beanie with her jacket's collar pulled up to her neck.

"This weather is making me sense something odd…" The female detective whispered to no one in particular. "Something… eerie."

Rodriguez pulled up in his black Camaro and Wilson put her cigarette out and walked up to the car, waiting for her partner to unlock the door. As he did, she heard something in her head, a tiny scared voice from long ago.

_He…lp…_


	14. Room of Angels

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Silent Hill. Silent Hill© belongs to, and will forever belong to, Konami. This is non-profit only. I only own the characters in this story.

**Author's Notes:** Well guys, this is it. The very last chapter before the epilogue. Hope you enjoy it.

The Truth That Lies

_Chapter Thirteen: Room of Angels_

She was traversing in the new "area" without a flashlight, her hands being the only thing guiding her. An odd luminescence provided just enough low level light to vaguely see a foot or so in front of her. Dirt and debris made her floor and made it hard for her to walk at more than a slow amble without stumbling and falling.

Kyla was determined to follow it. It seemed as though it was a one-way street with no ending. Having given up trying to judge time, the brunette didn't know how long she had been traveling.

The lighter she had acquired at the gas station on the outskirts of town was gripped tightly in one hand, but she had held off lighting it. The tunnel was bone dry and lonely, smelling strangely of wine left open to the air too long. It was the kind of smell that told you to leave well enough alone, the kind of smell that reminded you of spilt gasoline.

Debating for a moment, Kyla flicked open the top of the lighter, a dancing orange flame dancing to life above the flint casting harsh light and shadows across the rough walls around her.

The tunnel suddenly felt a great deal more alive, rippling and shifting uneasily in response to this unwelcome brightness.

And Kyla could hear something scratching and scrambling inside the dirt that encased her.

_Rats_, she hoped.

She gulped loudly, the saliva cleansing her through of the dryness that had pilled up in the last few hours, or was it days? She didn't know – she couldn't remember…

Kyla always had a fear of the dark, fear of feeling closed in; however, she knew that she had to get out of there and showing that she was a brave woman – the only brave soul left in Silent Hill, most likely.

It was a comforting thought, only slightly undermined by the persistent shivers she couldn't seem to shake.

Ahead, something new appeared, a rough-cut doorway of old wood. The plaque on the door read: "WISH HOUSE".

Gripping the knob and taking a deep breath she turned it, causing it to make a loud squeal that echoed throughout the tunnel. The lights inside this new place turned on without warning and she walked in.

"Hello…?" Her voice cracked, the sound barely coming out. "Anyone here?"

She forced herself to turn back around into the darkness, to close the door… but what she saw before her… amazed her.

She wasn't looking at the dark tunnel. She was looking out at Silent Hill's streets. The fog was getting worse… as if something bad was going to roll in. There was a slight rain, signifying something being… She shook her head, shaking everything off. It was then that she realized that…

_Anything… can happen… in Silent Hill._

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

She'd known.

Known the moment she stepped through that door that she would arrive here, and yet still a part of her, part that clung to it's sense of normality, was surprised when beyond the door that had been simply marked "Wish House: Admissions", it found itself standing with her on a long and lonely street.

It was foggy, that was merely an observation at this point, noted the same way one would notice that the sky was still there.

She glanced up at the icy black veil that hung, brooding, overhead. It seemed to gaze back with bored indifference rather than glaring with the twisted malice that had seemed to want to suffocate her when it had first appeared.

After her first trip to the Hospital… no, after her return. Kyla's last trip there had convinced her that she had been there before, and that she had left something behind, something that had scared the patients there, making them wish she had taken it with her.

The artic sting of the air barely registered as she strode toward her goal, toward the house that lurked at the end of the street, rose bush path too perfectly trimmed illuminated by the only street lamp that seemed to work, blinking on and off like a coded message.

Everything here was familiar, the feel of the rough wood beneath her fingers as she opened the gate, that faint squeal of hinges her father had wasted many hours trying to oil to no avail. They had always begun to squeak a few days later. The price of living in a town with so much fog, everything was bound to rust...

Her boots clapped up the red brick paving, sounding like a cheerful friend she hadn't seen for some time, chattering away.

One hand slid over the polished paintwork surrounding the doorframe, up to the top and along, a half smile forming as she remembered watching this but never being tall enough to do it.

Her fingers closed over the key she knew was going to be there, a single sliver of metal, no key-ring, no etchings, tucked under the edge of a raised splinter the length and width of her fingertip.

Kyla paused, waiting to see if Chris would speak up as he had the last time she'd been here; almost hoping to find one dead eye gazing out at her from a crack in the blinds, to let her know if she was doing what she was supposed to or not.

Nothing, she was on her own.

_Click_, the lock opened unobtrusively and the door opened ponderously, but without the ominous creak she had half expected, wanted, after a fashion.

Taking a deep breath, Kyla's head swam as the scent of charred timbers and stale smoke wafted out like a beckoning finger, swaying in place her inner ear screaming at her to step forward or back before ending up on her face. But which way should she go?

"…"

Taking a half step forward, the green-eyed girl shivered as icy fingers stroked her spine in an almost welcoming gesture and the Dread purred at her from the shadows, a kind of muted warning, half felt.

"… I'm home"

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

The scene around her shifted – distorted before her eyes. The blurry scene fell before her in the utmost clarity.

_A three-year-old Kyla was sitting next to her parents. It was her third birthday. Chris was sitting on the other side of the room. His face was slightly distorted. There was a cake burning on the other side of the room by Chris. One more present and she could blow out the candles…_

_When she opened it – it was from her mom – she squealed in happiness. It was the locket her mother gave her years ago… They were speaking but she didn't know what they were saying – it was as though she was deaf. They got up and her father picked her up, taking her to the cake. She closed her eyes and made a wish… With that, they walked upstairs, laughing and giggling as Kyla did a couple of childish things…_

Kyla looked at Chris; his grainy face staring back at her, distorted beyond recognition. She saw the brown hair, the somewhat masculine face… She knew he was staring at her. She felt his green eyes on her. His mouth opened and closed, as if speaking her to.

"Lies…" He whispered, gagging like he was choking on something, gesturing vaguely at the stairway she was about to ascend, "All lies…"

Written across the bottom stair, in copperplate neat crayon handwriting so small she had to kneel to read it as the ghost of Kyla past continued without her;

…_it started in the attic, so they had no idea it was too late until the walls came burning down around them… who would do something like that… this wasn't an accident._

She closed her eyes and walked up the stairs, leaving behind the abandoned, smoke clogged living room and it's phantoms.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

It was raining.

The houses' ashes came down like snowflakes on her cheek. A gentle flurry falling from the coal black timbers above.

Ash, fire, heat, burning bodies… Kyla took a deep breath and walked through the dead halls of her former home; the sound of the rain outside mixing with the crunch of her boots on the soot covered floor and the steady drip of mildewed water down heat blistered walls. This tomb gurgled at her, bloated and suffocating and full of so much unspoken rage…

The house was still smoldering slightly, as if the firemen had just recently put the blaze that lasted almost five hours out.

There were footprints – small, bare footprints – leading up to the end of a hallway. She looked around, seeing her old house burnt beyond recognition. The yellow wallpaper was now black, tearing itself away from the wood after years of decay. She saw the hatch above her – the attic…

When she was younger, Kyla had always feared the attic… Why? Kyla did not know. She was so young… She reached up and pulled the small latch revealing a rusted ladder. It creaked with every movement, filling the silence within the house. She closed her eyes and climbed… She had a feeling that she was near the end of something. What? She had no clue…

As she reached the top, she noticed there was light, natural light. She stood up, closing the attic behind her. The roof was half gone, burned into nothing but ash and soot. The rain drizzled its way onto the hard wood floor. The attic was empty… she remembered the officers helping clean the attic out, carrying boxes down in large, clear plastic bags.

Kyla looked towards the farthest corner of the room, toward a shape she had mistake for one of the remaining support posts at first. A man was talking to something etched away in the corner, something that growled at him in a mix of fear and hatred. A monster and a knight, squaring off.

But why could she not shake the feeling that the roles were not as they appeared.

The man turned around. He greeted her with a smile of pure white teeth.

"Hello Ky Bird. Good to see you again," he said, placing his hands on his hips.

"Chris… is this… you've been waiting here the whole time?" she asked, stomach rolling at the sight of that too white smile.

"The scene of the crime," he smiled disarmingly and somehow that only made her feel sicker.

"You… you've seen what's happening here… that … thing," she couldn't quite bring herself to gaze at the snarling non-presence of the Dread, "But you're not scared… It's scared… Why? Why would you come to a place with so many monsters?"

"Aren't you confused Ky bird?", Chris quizzed her, clasping his hands behind his back like a teacher giving a particularly dense student a lesson.

"Confused?"

"There are no monsters here… well, maybe one", she shrunk back as he laughed, a shrill disconcerting peel of bitter mirth mixed with something she'd never heard in his voice before… anger.

"You aren't Chris," whatever the being before her might have been, it wasn't the same entity she'd seen last time, and it sure as hell wasn't her brother.

He grinned again, so wide she was sure she heard the sound of his facial muscles tearing. The rain came pouring down harder than before, his body steaming as if the rain was putting out a fire. As the steam went away, a new person was there… Herself.

The Other walked towards her. She was wearing the same white vest, the same white windbreaker hoodie that clung to her skin with a white tank top… blue hip hugger cargo jeans and black sketchers.

_Why…? How???_

The Other looked at her and smiled with heat cracked teeth. The bandages covered her arms and hands and she carried herself as though nursing an injury that should have left her bedridden.

"Who…who are you?" Kyla managed to choke out when the shock receded her stomach lurching sickly as the thing in front of her smiled with her mouth, once more showcasing double rows of yellowed, shatter teeth.

"Who do you think I am bitch?" it spat at her, tone completely at ends with the otherwise pleasant expression on its face.

"Where's Chris?" Kyla's fist clenched as the other 'girl' rolled sharp green eyes at her and spun lazily on the spot, finger wagging, "What did you do with him?"

"Chris, Chris, Chris," the Other taunted in a whining nasal voice, one that sounded far too like her own as a child, calling out for her brother, "Do you have any idea how fucking irritating it is to hear that day, after day, after fucking day?"

"Wha-"

"I mean for fuck's sake it's bad enough that I have to put up with your whiny, wishy washy existence, without hearing your delusions rattling around like a broken record."

That struck a cold, hollow cord in Kyla's being.

"You're pathetic! Even now you idolize him, don't you little girl?"

"… I don't…" she tried to say but the thing's stare would brook no lies, and Kyla found herself babbling before her brain could catch up.

"That man was born in hate, in tragedy… in a fire that consumed our parents."

Each word seemed dragged from her lips by the fierce jade eyes opposite her, "He… he killed them?"

She was not sure what reaction she expected the Other to have to that shameful admission, but it was not the peel of bitter hate disguised poorly as laughter that came out.

"You fucking idiot! You really can't see it yet, can you?"

"S-see? I don't-"

"Of course you don't, it never even once entered that pretty little head to question why he's not anywhere to be found?" the thing took a menacing step closer, shooting a glare over her shoulder that quelled rumblings of Dread, forcing it back into it's shadowed retreat.

"He… he was taken…taken…away?" Kyla hated the question that crept into her voice, hated the look of triumph on the Other's face.

"Away where? By who? Where?" the nightmare reflection fired out each question like a bullet, shredding the illusion of knowing that had fallen over Kyla's perceptions since she'd come to Silent Hill.

"I… I don't…"

"'D-don't', of course you don't, you know nothing, nothing at all, just a poor lost little girl, so sweet, but hopelessly over her head… Just what I intended," a hideous grin echoed the roar of anguish the Dread let loose and everything wavered, a rippling caused by the heat, and there was suddenly so much heat. The rain sizzled and popped wherever it struck, dull timbers glowing faintly with new life.

"Shut up."

"Why? Is poor little _Ky _bird scared? Does she want _Chrisy_ to come save her?"

"Shut your fucking mouth!" Kyla snapped, the venom she meant to inject into those words drowned out by a kind of simpering fear she couldn't explain.

"We both know that isn't going to happen, just like we both know who really dropped that match, who they found outside in the garden afterwards, lying back in that cool cool green grass and listening to the rain silence the screams of the fire," the abomination that wore her countenance effected a dreamy expression, almost as if in the grip of a powerful wave of pleasure and Kyla shifted, revolted.

The embers grew brighter, the seductive warmth making it hard to think, to fight back against this monsters words.

"It was so… _nice_, wasn't it? Not as nice as the other screams, the sight of the eyes popping… that really did it, didn't it?" a hand was held up as if Kyla had been about to speak.

"We both know you liked it… well I did, and since I came first so did you. That's why we did it, why we spent so many nights lying there, looking at the matches, thinking about what it would be like to see them burn," that finally got the other girl's attention, her voice breaking back through to the surface in a hoarse but steady croak as the Dread wept silently around the edges of the room.

"I would never think anything like that, I wouldn't hurt anyone… and you don't… exist, so you can't know what I was thinking back then," the brunette asserted, sighing, as the temperature seemed to drop a little.

The rain was picking up.

"Know what you think?" her doppelganger smirked, delighting in the terror wavering in Kyla's voice, their voice.

"I AM what you think!" she bellowed, amusement turning to anger in the blink of an eye, "Whose head do you think that is, really?"

That one sentence finally felled the last bastion of denial that had been keeping her adrift. For a moment the world went quiet, silent, the kind of absence one often evokes with the phrase 'you could have heard a pin drop'. And hear it she did, a crystalline jangle echoed over and over in her mind, the sound she had been waiting for ever since she had found the inn mysteriously burned to the ground what seemed like a lifetime ago now.

What scared the brunette the most about this surreal nightmare was not the monsters she had seen, or the Dread she had felt since arriving in this fog shrouded town, or even the dancing madness that capered over the face of this twisted reflection of herself.

No the most horrifying part was that she found she had no answer for her dark half. She wasn't sure anymore which of them was real and who was fantasy.

_Tinkle…Tinkle…Tinkle_

Disjointed waves crashed together in the nothingness that had swallowed all other sound, enhancing and distorting one another, changing the pure noise into something sinister.

"Could have heard a pin… but not a match, not unless you were waiting for it," the Other whispered, somehow now behind the green eyed girl, her breath warm and silky on her cheek.

The world seemed to crawl and her muscles anchored in treacle as she tried with agonizing slowness to turn her head and follow this dangerous woman who had stolen her face and her brothe-

"He never existed you stupid bitch, can't you grasp that yet?" an irritated hiss that brought angry tears to her eyes.

"Stop it!"

"You made him up! To hide, just like I made you up," the voice of the Other was full of vicious cunning, "Can't convict a nutter even if you can find evidence, and who would push for it? Just a poor lost little girl, dreaming about a brother she never had to fill the hole left by her poor _dead_ parents".

Mock sympathy oozed from her voice, their voice, like sap from a burning tree.

"But who would have thought, the lie would become stronger than the truth? You live one long enough why remember the other, it's no longer needed… That's what you did to me you ungrateful little bitch", Kyla screamed as red hot fingers gripped her hair and pulled on it, threatening to tear it from her head.

"Stop-"

"I made you and you left me there in that dank little hole, that pit for the unwell, thought I was gone but there was a door, a door I never knew was there until _he_ opened it."

Images of bloody handprints filled her vision till Kyla felt she'd scream and she suddenly knew with a sickening certainty that she had done something awful. Without meaning to perhaps, but still, something terrible.

"Idiot, he thought that he could help you accept the truth… too bad for him he didn't know that **I **am your truth… he bled _so_ much you know."

"That's a lie! There was no… no… blood!" Kyla recoiled as the thing smirked triumphantly.

"Oh? And how do you know that?"

With a mindless cry of fury, Kyla hurled herself at the twisted visage of herself, clawing blindly with tooth and nail.

With anger and hatred, Kyla kneed the darker half of her in the ribs. Making the visage scream in pain as the air was forced from her lungs in a spray of ash and blood. The Other pushed on Kyla's shoulders, scrambling for enough room to fight back, to aim a blow, anything. However, adversity and determination were two things Kyla had in plentiful supply right now and she rained down blow after blow as she straddled her foe till her knuckles split and her fingers broke against the unyielding bone of her Other's face… and still she continued. She couldn't stop, the sound of the other her's head striking the wood hard enough to split it, to spill blood and gore from her cracked skull, drove her on.

"DIE DIE JUST FUCKING DIE YOU lying CUNT!"

The dark reflection's frantic hands found purchase as Kyla raised her hand for another blow and with an animal yell flipped Kyla on her back, pinning her against the splintered wood.

"You little bitch… You think you can kill me?!" it screeched, fragments of bone and brain clinging to its hair unnoticed, "I'm _you_! If you kill me, you're dead too!"

Kyla's face streaked forward and all she saw was the Other's startled face before her head collided with its nose with a sickening crunch of cartilage. She reached for the pocketknife in her pocket, unsheathing it as her doppelganger recoiled, dazed but not thwarted for long.

The blade glinted, her Other spotted it as her vision began to clear, her hands racing to seize it before all was lost and Kyla drove it into her unprotected abdomen.

The knife thrust and everything lost perspective.

Warm... something warm was pooling out beneath her… beneath them, beneath where they lay in their first and final embrace. A sticky blanket that colored everything it touched, that clung everywhere. From the gapping hole above rain fell on the two of them serenely, a whispering blanket that quieted everything…even the ever slowing beating of her heart.

Thump-thump… thump-thump..thump-thump

Kyla found herself fascinated by the dying glow of the embers around the room, yeloow to orange…orange to red…

Thump-thump… …Thump-thump… …

"The fire… is almost…out…" in the distance, she could just make out the faint wail of a siren… drawing closer. They'd be here soon.

Thump-thump… … … thump…

The floor was so uncomfortable… the liquid had started to set and it tore at her skin if she moved.

Thump… thump…

Rain trickled over sore dry eyes, flowing from the corners like a stream of endless tears and the weight atop her was slowly crushing her, cutting of her precious air. The weight of her sin.

"Mommy… …Daddy… …Chris… I'm sorry… …I'm so…."

Thump… … … …

Sirens wailed and obliterating, obscuring white claimed her world.


	15. Epilogue

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Silent Hill. Silent Hill© belongs to, and will forever belong to, Konami. This is non-profit only. I only own the characters in this story.

**Authors Notes: **Well… this is it, guys. Hope you enjoy the final chapter to The Truth That Lies. My editor says that he is glad it's over and he can finally get some rest. Thanks **betweenheavenandhell**!!!

The Truth That Lies

_Epilogue_

**Location:** Chicago, Lower West, Apartment 241

**Officers on Scene**: Benjamin Rodriguez and Ashley Wilson

**Time Approx: **17:56 local standard

**Incident Report:**

_Officer Rodriguez and Officer Wilson arrived at the apartment of missing person of interest, Lieutenant Christopher Donovan at approximately six-pm, to confirm or deny the presence of the aforementioned at his ace of residence, and begin investigation into his potential whereabouts. Officers were permitted the use of entry by force if reasonable doubt of his continued residency or welfare was presented._

_Unable to rouse any sign of occupation from apartment 241, or find evidence of his activities some five days hence from other residents, officers on scene decided to exercise their right to forced entry._

_As the apartment manager provided access, one resident came forth mentioning she had heard shouting several nights ago and seen the occupants car leaving some hours later, though she could not confirm who had been driving._

_Upon entering the domicile we encountered nothing openly amiss, though several diaries found in the main bedroom made it clear that the lieutenant had been engaged in questionable practice as an amateur psychologist for one Kyla Donovan, his former Ward until coming of age._

_Evidence of his sessions with the young lady were found in a series of loose notes hidden about the room, each more cleverly hidden set revealing the… unusual and unethical practices he had undergone in order to "bring out the truth"._

_Sensory deprivation and overload techniques years out of date were documented, including one phrase written larger than the rest; "The door, she talked about the door again today. She's scared of what's behind it. Doors are symbolic? Who are the shadows on the glass?" Chris had been dousing her under a cold shower to simulate the rain the night she has found outside her burning house. What he hoped to glean by doing so is uncertain at this time._

_Suspicions of foul play were apparent, but Forensic analysis of the apartment only turned up one blood trace: a large stain on the apartment telephone's receiver, consistent with its use as a single blow blunt force instrument._

_Whoever was struck was never meant to get up again._

_The nature of the final entries would hint toward the likely out come of events._

_Final entry had only one phrase circled: "In Mens Rea Veritas". Linguistics translates it as Latin meaning "In the guilty mind [lies] truth".__Investigation is ongoing. _

**Location:** Wish House Silent Hill, Toluca County, Virginia

**Officers on Scene**: Benjamin Rodriguez and Ashley Wilson

**Time Approx: **07:23 local standard

**Incident Report:**

_The suspect was located outside of Wish House, an abandoned orphanage facility on the outskirts of Silent Hill. She was catatonic on time of arrival but due to the nature of the charges was still given a two-officer escort when taken into custody._

_The body of Lieutenant Christopher Donovan was found in the boot of his stolen vehicle in the car park of Wish House. Manner of death is consistent with blunt force trauma to the rear of the head, a single well aimed blow._

_Officer Wilson took charge of reading rights and informing Ms Donovan of the severity of her crime and likely consequences if convicted. There was no reaction from the suspect at that time or any other._

_During the course of the cleanup_ _however Officer Wilson went missing. The search for her is still ongoing._

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"Still ongoing huh?" Ben spat bitterly, glaring with eyes that had seen the bottom of one too many glasses and not enough sleep since Ashley had vanished almost a month ago.

The report lain out before him was a technically illegal photocopy he had made earlier that day after McLean had sadly informed him that they had no choice but to close the case for the time being. The originals would probably be down in the basement, under the watchful eye of the dour, skeleton of a man that had replaced Chris. The poor bastard that had been murdered by his lunatic ward in his misguided attempts to find the truth about why she alone had survived the fire that had consumed her family.

Ben remembered the girl's eyes when they had taken her in. Remembered the soulless hunger that had been trapped there, desperately clawing for the surface.

Was that what his fellow officer had accidentally unleashed Ben wondered as he poured himself another glass of the murky brown liquid in the unmarked bottle on his desk.

Was it whisky? Bourbon?

Downing it, the bitter spirit pulling his lips back over his gums for a moment he decided he didn't care.

There were things that weren't in these reports, things that he just hadn't been able to put into words.

He could remember on the drive into town, Ashley had made an off hand comment about something, something he'd thought strange but had been too busy driving to really focus on.

_What was it?_ He thought rubbing his throbbing temples.

Something… about the road… she couldn't see the road? Why would she have said that, it had been a perfectly clear winter morning.

She'd also been distracted by something ever since that night he'd brought over the Donovan girl's psych files… so how did that fit in?

Ben glanced lazily at the pen scribbles added to the bottom of the final photocopy.

"Out of breath", Ashley had seemed really out of it when they'd met up again after searching the orphanage for the suspect, gazing sadly around her like she'd found something that had brought up bad memories. Had she been thinking about that kid?

"Es like a big bear"

Ben shook his head roughly rubbing the buttonhole scar on his shoulder unconsciously. There was enough tragedy going around without digging up more from things best left dead and buried.

Staggering over to the window of his study, decorated in muted browns that had seemed so retro-sophisticated months ago but now only seemed dull, Ben leant against the window heavily.

The last anyone had seen of Detective Wilson had been a uniform that spotted her walking through the tree line next to the orphanage. The man in question had told Ben later, in private, that he thought it looked like Ashley was talking to someone further in, but by the time he'd thought to report it, she was long gone and the weather was forcing them all back into their cars.

"Where did you go Ash…" the Hispanic detective whispered, glaring at the non-existent view from his window as he turned back toward the small couch on the far wall, hoping to catch a little shut eye but not really expecting it.

As he settled in, Ben took one last lingering look outside at the featureless landscape.

It was getting misty out there.

**Author's Notes**: Well there is it. My year project is finally over with. However... I am planning a sequel... Maybe.


End file.
